When a Stranger Calls
by murtagh799
Summary: "Please save my son, Malfoy. Please!" Hermione wept from her place on the floor near his feet. She clutched his robes. "I'll do anything," she sobbed. "Anything?" He arched his brow, his trademark smirk plastered on his face.DRAMIONE. Mature Content.
1. Hello Sunshine

**A/N: Hello, everyone. I know what you're thinking. What the hell? Didn't this have 19 chapters? I know, really. I don't know what happened. Apparently, last night, it magically disappeared from the site and I've been spending the better part of today trying to figure out what the hell happened between panic attacks and a few tears. **

**I still don't know what happened only that all of my favourites, reviews, and alerts are GONE! Has this happened to any of you before? All I know is that if I hadn't saved this elsewhere we would have no story. As it is, you guys still get to read it – only I get to suffer from the monstrosity of having no reviews. We were reaching 400! **

**I sincerely apologize to anyone who has me on Author alert because this is going to be a very rough 19 emails. SORRY IN ADVANCE. **

**Yours sincerely, **

**M. **

**PS: One of you suggested I get a twitter and I've wanted to stalk Tom Felton for a while. So I got one. Say hello and give me hugs at reply murtagh799**

**DISCLAIMER: DON'T OWN**

**WARNINGS: THIS STORY CONTAINS CHILD ABUSE, GRAPHIC VIOLENCE, COARSE LANGUAGE, AND EXTREME SITUATIONS THAT MAY NOT BE COMFORTABLE FOR ALL READERS. RATED M. READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. **

**Chapter One: Hello Sunshine **

Hermione Weasley nee Granger was late.

It was a very, very odd thing to have happened to her, because Hermione was _never _late. No, definitely not. If there was one thing that everyone knew about Hermione, it was that she was dependable, reliable, and always on time. So when the foreign Chinese minister was kept waiting a whole ten minutes for her presence, Hermione was mortified.

She had sworn to herself that she would not let motherhood get in the way of her work life. Yet here she was, _late _to the most important meeting of her career.

"I'm _so _very sorry to have kept you waiting," she panted, gesturing that the Minister and his delegates follow her into her office. It was sheer luck that Harry Potter had been present in the office that morning and had caught the attention and interests of the Chinese ministry representatives. She nodded her thanks to him with a grateful expression and he winked back at her. "If you would like to have a seat?"

These days, everything was a strain. It was just sheer luck that she was managing thus far anyhow. Her job in the Department of Foreign Affairs at the Ministry of Magic had become unbearably hectic in the past year. Of course, that was only because she had gotten the big promotion she had been working for her entire life just last year.

She was now the Under-Secretary Head of the Department of Foreign Affairs. And it was a hell of a lot of work.

That meant late nights at the office, less time to socialize, fewer weekends (or any days) off, and just... not enough time to breathe, if she were to be completely honest. Not that she'd complain to anyone, of course. Hermione didn't _like _to complain. But she was very slowly unravelling at the seams.

And having an eight year old son in the mix wasn't helping the fraying process.

She loved her son, Hugo, yes. He was her darling angel. But there was no time to spend with the beautiful child if she was to make them a living. But he didn't understand the concept of "work". Hugo had his father's temperament, so to speak. Play and bother mummy now, work later.

It was partially her fault for spoiling him. After Ron had died five years ago, when Hugo had only been three, she had clung to the little boy as if he were the only reminder of her beloved late husband.

Ron had died in an unfortunate, tragic accident. He had been an auror in his day – and that had been quite appealing to her in the past – but when news of the accident reached her by owl, she had been mortified. She couldn't believe what had happened, what she was reading printed in desolate blank ink. Ron had been killed, quite by accident they said, by a bloody _Hippogriff stampede! _

She had thought it was a cruel bloody joke being played on her. It couldn't possible have been a _real _letter. Who the hell gets killed by a Hippogriff stampede anyways? Her mind had flashed back to her Care of Magical Creatures textbook, and Madame Grubbyplank's voice – _each year, 8 poor individuals are caught in the midst of Hippogriff stampedes – _But she had shaken the thought away. Her Ron was too smart to be the victim of something so...bizarre.

So it obviously had to be a joke.

The thing was, it hadn't been a joke at all. When she had reached the Auror department at the Ministry of Magic, little Hugo slung across her hip, she had found a sobbing Ginny, a very depressed Harry and several members of the Weasley family all there. Waiting. And the thought had crossed her mind that it possibly _wasn't _a cruel prank. But how could it be? How could it possibly be?

But it had been, she had been told. She had stood there for hours in shock. It hadn't occurred to her that Ron could just up and leave like that. Death was supposed to be a thing of the future. They were supposed to grow old together. They were meant to see Hugo off at King's Cross, his first day at Hogwarts...

And now they would have none of that.

Instead, she was now given the responsibilities of the entire household. What had been a part time job at the department of foreign affairs now became her only source of income. Her organizations for the underprivileged (S.P.E.W, Victims of War, The Organization for the Equality of Muggleborns, etc.) had no funding, and no manpower to run them – since their leader was now a single mother with no supports and no savings.

She had had to sell her house and downsize to a single bedroom apartment in muggle London and take on a full time gruelling desk job. It had been difficult. For the first few months, she had had difficulties getting the groceries on the table. Molly Weasley had been more than generous by watching over Hugo during the day while she went to work. Harry had offered her a place in his home, saying that she was more than welcome. She had declined. She did not want anyone's charity. She was more than capable.

And she had been.

By the end of the first year, they had managed to move into a more suitable neighbourhood. Hermione had managed to climb the ladder of success in such a short time. How could she not? She was still the smartest witch of her age. Her intelligence and resourcefulness had not gone unnoticed by management, and she had been continually promoted over the years.

With success came the money, and with the money came proper housing, food, clothing, a nanny for supervision, and everything Hugo could ever want. Everything except his mother's time and proper affections. Who could possible be affectionate after a long 16 hour day in which people only wanted to irritate the hell out of you? It was the unfortunate side effect of having a career and only one paycheque.

Hermione had no idea just how much she'd have to pay for having a career.

"Manny?" called Hugo down the stairs.

Manny the Nanny rolled her eyes and sighed. This job was not for her. Listening and taking care of little snotty brats was _so _not her thing. No. When she had graduated from Beauxbatons she had wanted to go into the fashion consultant business. How was she to know she'd be broke as fuck and have to resort to this _nanny_ business? What kind of a business was this anyways?

She was lucky that her friend had hooked her up with this job. She would've been on the street and starving otherwise, she supposed. But really! No one with any _dignity _could tell people that they were a nanny. Ugh.

"Yeah, I'm here," she called from her place on the couch, not bothering to get up. If the little brat wanted to talk to her, he'd just have to come downstairs and find her. "What do you want?" She stopped herself from swearing. It wouldn't do to get fired, not for something so stupid like that, anyways.

"I'm hungry," the little boy said.

She sighed again, clearly irritated. "I just made you a sandwich!" The boy cringed and she automatically lowered her voice. What if he told his mother? That would not go down well. "Did you eat the sandwich?" He nodded his head tentatively.

"I'm...hungry, again."

Groaning, she got up and walked towards the kitchen, noticing that the little snot face followed her there. He was such an odd little boy. He played by himself nearly all day, bothered her for inconsequential things, and was obsessed with his mother. You'd think he'd be begging her to go see his friends or eat chocolate – whatever the hell little boys do. But it seemed like he didn't have any friends, or even an appetite for junk food.

Weird little bugger.

As she made him another sandwich, she watched him. He looked afraid. Of her, maybe? Good. Maybe he'd stop bothering her all the time, then, and go do whatever it was weird kids did.

"Can I play outside, later?" he asked.

It took her a moment that the question was registered at her. She shrugged. Who the hell cared if he went and played outside? "Yeah, sure, but make sure you get back in here before your mother gets home. I don't want to get in trouble, got it?"

He nodded, clearly happy that she hadn't yelled at him. That had been easy. Maybe he could just go away for long enough, so that she could _finally _sit in some relative silence and read her new copy of Witch Weekly.

After she had made him a sloppy sandwich he grinned at her, and she almost felt bad for calling him a little snot faced bugger. Or some variation. He wasn't so bad. Her older brother had been worse when they'd been growing up, she now remembered. So what if he was a freak?

As long as the freak wasn't in her hair, she supposed...

With a happy little "Thanks!" he ran off to his room to eat, where he consumed all of his meals when she was around. Was he shy or something? Shrugging to herself, internally, she grabbed a box of droobles best blowing gum and went back to her own thoughts.

She didn't notice the figure in the street staring at the bicycle strewn across the yard from where Hugo had left it yesterday. He was donned in a black cloak, a cowl covering his face. She would have been afraid, and would have called her boss, Mrs. Weasley.

But as it was, she was absorbed in her magazine, and by the time she looked up, the man was gone.

It was Sunday afternoon and Hermione had to go to work to put in a few extra hours so that she'd be prepared tomorrow when the French delegates appeared for their meeting. Sure, Sunday was supposed to be a day spent with the family...but this was important. Important enough that Manny understood, and just so she knew that Hermione appreciated all her help, she was paying her double.

"I really appreciate this, Manny," Hermione said, slightly panting as she attempted to find her second shoe. Where had it gone?

"That's alright, Mrs. Weasley. Anytime." The teen smiled charmingly at her. "Is that it right there?" Hermione turned and looked over to where Manny was pointing. Indeed, that _was _her shoe in the corner. She smiled gratefully at the nanny and hurried.

Was that everything? She was sure she was missing something... what was it?

"Mum?" came a timid little voice outside her bedroom door.

Right, she'd forgotten that. She braced herself for what she knew was going to be a guilt fest. But what other option did she have? They had bills to pay, and she had to start saving for what was going to be a very taxing seven years at Hogwarts for her child. It didn't come cheap... And she wasn't the type of person to let her child feel lack of _anything_, not if she had something to say about it. He would not be ridiculed for something so silly just because she was a single mother. It was a question of pride.

She put on her happy face. "Yes, sweetheart?"

"You said you'd play with me today. Remember? You said we'd go to the park today. It's Sunday..." Her little prodigy stood before her, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. His eyes were forlorn and it nearly broke her heart.

"I'm sorry, baby-"

"You promised."

"I know... I'm sorry, Hugo." She attempted to go towards him, perhaps comfort him or at the very least try to make it up to him, but he ran away from her before she could catch him in her arms. "Hugo!" she shouted after him, but to no avail. He ran from the room, down the stairs and out the door. She heard the door slam shut behind him. Walking towards the window she saw him sit on the front porch, taking out his set of gobstones to play with by himself.

"He's not normally like this, really..." she heard Manny say from behind her. "He must be really upset to have acted like that."

Hermione regarded the young woman before her. She had had her doubts about the girl, definitely when she'd had to relinquish her responsibilities of Hugo to her once she'd had to put in much more time into her career. But after years of entrusting Hugo's care with the girl, she was confident that she'd made the right decision. Manny was sweet, caring, and genuinely nice. She seemed to really care about Hugo, and that was exactly what Hermione was looking for.

"You'll spend some time with him today, won't you?" Hermione asked, worried. "I really hate to see him like this..."

Manny just smiled, sweetly. "Of course, Mrs. Weasley."

Before she could contemplate it further, she noticed the time on a clock hanging above her bed. Was it _really _that late? She audibly gasped and started muttering to herself, grabbing her bag and rushing out the door without so much as a wave and goodbye to Manny.

"Make sure he eats!" Hermione shouted as she made her way out the front door, outside the apparation wards, so she could finally make her way to work. When she passed Hugo, he didn't look up at her because he was still rather angry, she assumed. She turned to give Manny a look, and Manny nodded understanding what was expected of her. "Bye, sweetheart. I'll see you at dinner, alright?"

No response. She watched as Manny came over to her son and pulled him into her lap. "What say you and I read a book, hm?"

Hermione smiled as she apparated to work.

When it was apparent that she really _was _gone and wasn't going to be back for a while, the sweet smile on Manny's face literally melted as she moved the eight year old kid off of her, stood up, and brushed her pants off as if he had been filthy.

"You're not _really _going to read to me, are you," Hugo stated. It wasn't a question. It wasn't even really necessary to ask if Manny would actually do anything but the bare minimum. Not that her boss needed to know such things, of course.

Manny shrugged. "You know the drill, kid." And without a backwards glance, she walked back into the house to sit on her favourite chair and perhaps read through her Witch Weekly once more. The slam of the door resounded behind her and Hugo shuddered. He hadn't really expected company today. He had already known his mother would break her promise.

His mother _always _broke promises. At least the ones she made with him.

Hugo sighed and tucked his gobstones back into his pocket. He didn't feel like playing anymore. He didn't want to do anything anymore. No one really wanted him, not even his own mother. He had heard the other kids down the street say so last week, and now he was beginning to believe it himself. Manny probably thought so too. Manny probably knew. Perhaps he could ask her later when he reminded her to make him something to eat.

Come to think of it, he wasn't really hungry at all. Maybe he wouldn't eat today and see if his mother noticed at all. Because he knew she wouldn't make it to dinner. She never did these days.

He kicked at a plant that sat on the porch. Who cared if he broke it? It was dead and withered anyways. No one watered it. He wasn't allowed to touch things, or Manny would yell at him. Poor plant. It was probably better if he destroyed it. At least the sun wouldn't bother it anymore. He glared at the plant. Why did it have to die and leave him too?

"Hello," came a voice.

He startled and looked around to find a man staring at him, smiling broadly. He stared suspiciously at the man. What was he doing there? And why was he talking to him? Grownups didn't talk to him, they thought he was annoying. Manny said it was because he was weird and pesky and...something else, he couldn't remember.

"Would you like to come play with us?"

Hugo narrowed his eyes. _Play with him? _Why would he do that? He didn't even know the guy. So he shook his head slightly. "I'm not supposed to talk to strangers..." Yes, that is what his mother had told him to say, right? Something like that.

The stranger laughed and Hugo was startled. "I'm not a stranger. You see that house, right there?" He pointed to a house down the street that had been empty for years. "My son and I just moved there last week, and he's getting quite lonely."

Hugo looked around once again, searching for this mystery son but found no one around. "I don't see no son, Mister."

The stranger laughed again, but Hugo didn't understand what was so funny. "Charlie!" the man called out. "Charlie, come on! I've found us a new friend to play with!" A timid little boy walked down the steps of the house the man had pointed out and walked towards them shyly. "You see here, this is my son, Charlie. He's awfully shy. Say hello, Charlie."

But Charlie didn't say anything. He just stared blankly back.

"Hello. I'm Hugo."

**A/N: I'm in pain. Really. **


	2. Notice Me Not

**Chapter Two: Notice Me Not **

When Hermione came home that night, the first thing she did was run hurriedly up to her son's room to see if he were still awake. She had missed putting him to bed every day this week – six days out of seven last week – and she was hoping to not fall behind so badly now. But it was a quarter past twelve and there was no way an eight year old boy would be up at this time.

Not that she was expecting it or anything.

She sighed quietly when she saw his small sleeping form huddled in bed. He had somehow managed to kick off all of the covers in his sleep and was shivering in his favourite blue pajamas as a result. His father had bought them for him when he had been really little. Hermione hadn't had the heart to throw away something Hugo loved so much. So she had taken to enlarging and repairing the pajamas as needed.

Hermione kissed Hugo's smooth forehead and watched the little boy peacefully sleep on. She sat there a few moments more after she had tucked him under his covers. Hermione was glad she could do this at the very least. She was glad that she could make sure her baby was safe and sound at night.

She felt guilty for abandoning him so often. It was eating away at her insides. But she was not willing to go back to second hand clothes and two small meals a day. Hugo would eventually learn of the sacrifices she was making for him.

The wizarding world wasn't kind to single female parents, unfortunately. They were old fashioned, male dominated arseholes, the lot of them. But what could she do? She was helpless. She really, really needed this job to stick if she was going to send Hugo to Hogwarts.

After the war, the wizarding world had gone into a recession - more like a full scale depression, in reality- and it still hadn't managed to completely throw it off. The job market was still brutal, budgets were still being cut left and right, inflation, inflation, inflation... it was almost impossible to exist. Unless, of course, you were a pureblood aristocrat. It was as if the war hadn't even happened. All was as it had been.

She didn't want her baby to suffer in a world like that. If it was a choice between starving and living in the ghettos to living in relative comfort... She'd take the latter any day. Hermione was willing to go through anything for Hugo. He was the last living reminder of the love that had existed between her and Ron. Now that she was so occupied with work – her life was very lonely indeed.

Sighing quietly once more and checking if Hugo was indeed sleeping comfortably, Hermione got up and securely shut the door behind her so the child could sleep in peace.

What she was completely unaware of, however, was the lingering shadow that remained behind her beloved son's wardrobe. It watched over the boy silently. If she had turned and paid more attention when shutting the door, if she had even turned around once more to ascertain that her baby really_ was_ safe, she would have seen the shadow grow into the shape of a towering, strong man. She would have seen the man who was draped in a large voluminous cloak walk towards her son's bed and reach out to stroke his silky chocolate coloured hair.

She would have seen that his hand had six fingers, and she would have screamed.

But Hermione didn't turn back, didn't even spare another look. He had expected as much. Instead, she walked towards her own room and prepared to go to sleep in her own bed, blissfully ignorant of the presence watching her son sleep.

Hermione Weasley dreamed of warm arms and ocean breezes that night.

/

Draco Malfoy was _angry. _

There was no denying it. He was pissed the fuck off. He was angry enough to tear the next person who walked through his office door in half and in half again. No matter the mess...and the legal consequences. He'd fucking deal with it so long as it'd quench this blood thirsty anger that coursed through his veins.

And it was all due to his bitch of a wife – Astoria Malfoy.

He leaned back in his black leather chair, breathing through his nose to perhaps calm himself down a little. But it was to no avail. There was a slight pink tinge to his pale alabaster skin, most likely from flushing in pure rage. He grasped at his perfectly tailored black robes, wishing for once that they weren't so form fitting. His beautiful office was in danger of being set on fire – and he didn't really care, either. He was more than willing to part with it.

After all of these years, Astoria still had the audacity to question his authority. She _dared _undermine him? _Who the hell did she think she was_, he asked himself whilst clutching a piece of parchment, crushed between his long, pale, tapered fingers. He stared down at her neat scrawl, his eyes barely comprehending what he was reading. His hands trembled slightly as he re-read the letter once more, not knowing whether it was to fuel his anger further or to confirm that the daft woman had actually done the impossible again.

_Dearest Drakey-Poo, _

_I'm sorry you won't get to see your son this month, darling. We're off to Paris, then Rome, then perhaps the Bahamas for a much needed vacation. You know how tired I get of this dreadful London weather. _

_See you next month, darling! _

_Astoria. _

_P.S: I am forwarding last month's bills to your office. Do take care of them promptly if you can. I would rather not repeat last month's fiasco. _

He nearly growled remembering exactly what last month's fiasco had been. She had gone off and spent a large chunk of his fortune, like she did so every month, and expected him to pay for it. Like bloody fuck he was putting up with that kind of injustice! So he had refused to pay them until she had used his own son as blackmail against him.

"_Don't you ever want to see him again?" _

His blood nearly boiled at the memory. In the past year, Draco had only seen his son a handful of times due to the ghastly witch his parents had demanded he marry. The woman was impossible and he was starting to lose his mind. As far as he was concerned, their marriage had ended the day Scorpius had been born. They had barely slept in the same house in the past eight years, let alone spend time in bed.

That didn't stop her from demanding he pay for her extravagant lifestyle with his extensive fortunes. He had had to endure this woman for years for the sake of his son. For the sake of respect in pureblood community. She knew he would never divorce her because that was simply not the pureblood way, and she was fully prepared to take advantage of that fact.

He wished his parents would just bloody roll over in their graves.

He crumpled the expensive parchment that he had no doubt paid for, and promptly set it on fire.

Draco sighed. There was no use contemplating about murder just yet. He had to come up with a _proper _plan in which to make his wife suffer and get his son out of the devil's claws. He had no idea how he had let it get this far, or why he'd endured it at all. She really was just a slag. Why hadn't he done away with her yet?

_Because you love your son, obviously_, he heard a voice inside his head. It was a familiar voice, one that irked his sensibilities. Where had he heard it before? Something to do with obnoxious know-it-all chocolate eyes and a library, perhaps? It didn't matter. The voice was right.

He couldn't deal with this now, though. It would have to wait just like it would _always _have to wait. He had work to do.

/

Hermione was exhausted. It wasn't the usual exhaustion, either. It was bone deep, irremovable weariness that came along with too many tasks to do. She hadn't felt this tired since her third year schedule fiasco when she had bitten of more than she could chew. And Merlin's underpants, she had done it again.

Hermione Granger had taken on a load far greater than she could manage. And it seemed everyone but she noticed it. It wasn't like she had fainted yet, or anything so drastic. But the bags under her eyes became a permanent feature, her frazzled hair remained untamed as per usual, and it seemed she was... unkempt. But no one but her assistant/secretary/pseudo-mother would let her know.

"Hermione Weasley," Margaret would say every morning, "Rolled right out of bed, did you?"

And Hermione would roll her eyes and secretly laugh inside. So, what did it matter if she _had _just rolled out of bed and came to work with a piece of toast in her hand as breakfast? Regardless, she was glad someone had the courage to joke with her. Margaret wasn't stiff like the rest. Hermione had quite a reputation, and it seemed because of it – not many people wanted to be her friend, or even really associate with her. It paid to be part of the broken golden trio, war hero, and a mastermind at work.

The issue was, Hermione didn't have the capacity nor the inclination to be as cautious as she used to be back in her teenage years. She was still intelligent, of course, still the best witch of her age – but that wasn't saying much anymore. Her age group consisted of a flock of blundering, idiotic sheep. Maybe a half dead salamander here and there at best.

Slowly, but surely, Hermione began to slip up.

She would come home to find Hugo crying softly in his room sometimes whilst Manny was sprawled over her comfortable couch and not make the connection. She would see the groceries she'd bought mostly untouched, even though Manny said that dinner had been made – and not see right through the lie. Where had her common sense gone? Perhaps it was stored away somewhere with her sanity. It wasn't that Hermione did not care. She cared _a lot. _She cared more than most people would ever imagine.

She was just too _goddamn tired _to manage. Her brain stopped paying attention, and with that came stupid, blind, gullible trust. Time had worn Hermione Weasley down, and she would pay dearly for it.

That Sunday, Hermione made it her business to stay home and spend some time with Hugo. She worked extra hard that Saturday so that no urgent pressing matters would somehow crop up into her day. Work had seemed to mysteriously seep into her life and take over all of her time – but not today, not this Sunday. She had come home at three AM the night before with strict instructions to her secretary not to disturb her on this day of rest.

She had genuinely been excited to get to spend some time with her son. She was so _happy _to finally get the chance to be a mother again and resume her responsibilities, happy enough that she had owled Manny and had given her the day off. It was fantastic. So fantastic, she had only gotten three hours of sleep and felt awake enough to start her day.

With an extra large mug of coffee, of course.

When Hugo came down the stairs, sleep in his eyes, he had been surprised to see her at the stove and cooking. Hermione never had the time to cook and her son knew it. He instantly became suspicious.

"Where's Manny?" he asked, slowly.

"I gave her the day off." Hermione smiled brightly at her son. "I'm making waffles, eggs, and bacon. Which would you like first? Would you like toast? I've already poured you milk-"

"You don't have to go to work today?" Hugo asked slowly, as if Hermione was the child and he was the adult. She could see the hope grow in his eyes with his question and she smiled wider, shaking her head. He didn't seem to believe her. "So you're staying home today."

"Yeah, if that's okay with you, little man." He giggled. "Eat, and then we'll do something fun, okay?" He nodded and sat down, sipping gingerly at the glass of milk she had poured for him. She noticed he was moving slowly. "Are you feeling alright, sweetheart?"

He grimaced and nodded at her. "I think I slept funny," he said, frowning, rolling his shoulders as if to relieve tension. "It hurts, mummy."

"Poor thing. I'll give you some medicine to relieve the pain after you eat, sweetheart. Okay?" She came over to where he sat at the kitchen table to stroke his beautiful, silky hair and kiss his forehead. He had gotten his father's hair texture and not hers thankfully. He nodded again, his entire face lighting up at the prospect of spending a day with his mother. _Finally. _

After she had seen to it that Hugo had eaten a sufficient amount of breakfast, she sent him off to bathe. It wouldn't do to lounge around all day, unwashed in one's pajamas. At least, that's what she told herself as she made her way to her room to take a shower herself. But when she saw the soft pillow inviting her back to bed, she just _couldn't _resist. Four hours a night, every night, was too little to function.

Only for thirty minutes, she promised herself. Only until Hugo finished his bath...

But thirty minutes turned into an hour, and an hour turned into two. It was well past noon when Hugo finally poked his head through her door to find his mother fast asleep in her bed. She was perched at the edge, as if she were ready to get up and go at any second. Hugo was relieved. He had thought that his mother had left him home and went to work instead of keeping her promise to him.

She'd kept her promise – half of it at least. She was just...tired. Tired was okay. He wasn't going to bother her or anything. He gently walked towards the bed where his mother lay, only to attempt to cover her with the blanket. But he must not have been gentle enough because Hermione startled awake, staring at him sleepily.

"Hugo! Merlin, darling, you _scared _me."

He hung his head in shame. He couldn't do _anything _right, could he? "I'm sorry," he mumbled. She smiled and stroked his hair. "You can go back to sleep, mum."

"What time is it?" she asked tiredly, pulling him into her lap.

Hugo stared at the clock over her bed. "It's twelve oh one," he said in a voice that sounded strangely reminiscent of a bushy little know-it-all that used to travel the halls of Hogwarts in haughtiness.

Hermione gasped. "Really? I'm so sorry, Hugo. I just didn't sleep much last night." She kissed his forehead. "I promise I'll make it up to do, sweetheart. What would you like to do?" Hermione got up from the bed, lifting Hugo up with her, safely tucked over her waist. She wobbled and almost fell. Hugo stared at her sceptically. He was only eight, but he wasn't an idiot. His mother was tired. Anyone could see that.

But Hugo could also see the poorly hidden hope in her eyes. Hermione was genuinely excited to spend time with him. She had missed him as much as he had missed her, and Hugo _really _had missed her all these days... He wouldn't dash her hopes.

"We could watch a movie on the muggle telly," he suggested hopefully.

Hermione grinned. She loved it when her baby took an interest in all things muggle. He hadn't taken much to the television as she had thought a boy of his age would. Manny had latched on it great though. She was just glad she was integrating their worlds. "I'd love that, darling."

So they went downstairs and sat on their squishy couch. Hermione turned on the telly and even made popcorn for the both of them. Hugo had a small satisfied smile plastered on his face, as if he couldn't really believe that any of this was happening. As a matter of fact, Hermione couldn't believe it either. She had somehow managed to make her son happy and not sacrifice his future at the same time.

She was asleep again within fifteen minutes.

But Hugo didn't mind. No, he was only glad that she was here with him, even if she was asleep. At least she was _home. _It made him happy to know that she actually wanted to spend time with him. So he kissed his mothers cheek and whispered, "I love you."

/

**1 Month Later: **

Hermione had taken to working long hours again. She had only managed to make it home for dinner a handful of times in the past month, and she'd definitely missed all four Sundays. But Hugo didn't mind. They had shared a lovely day.

But more than that, his mother had promised him that they _would _spend time together. And they had been. Every day, Hugo would wake up at an ungodly hour so that he and his mother could have breakfast together and share pleasantries before she would kiss his forehead and go to work. After she had left, he would go back to bed and sleep for a few hours. It was a lovely compromise that he was more than willing to make.

It just proved that his mother loved him, really. And she did.

It had seemed to be an unremarkable morning when Hugo had woken that day. His mother had read the paper to him before she had left. It had been perhaps the best day he had had since his birthday. His mother never missed his birthday, not for anything. And now it seemed as if she'd never miss breakfast either.

"_Breakfast is the most important meal of the day, young man. Don't let me see you skipping out on it." _

So of course, he always ate extra when she was around.

He bathed, ate lunch, which Manny begrudgingly got up to make for him, and spent a few hours in his room reading the encyclopaedia his mother didn't know he'd nicked from her stash of books. If he was going to go to Hogwarts, he'd have to make his mother proud. All of his aunts and uncles told him that his mum was the smartest witch of their age! And she had done extremely well at Hogwarts. He didn't want to be a disappointment...

But reading got boring after a few hours, and the weather was nice. He wondered if the nice man and his son were out again today. They were his friends – tentative ones, yes – but friends. Even if the son was a little bit...blank.

But Hugo didn't discriminate.

And indeed they were outside again today. It was as if they'd known he would be there as they stood there, almost as if they were waiting for him. The little boy looked slightly perturbed, as if there were something wrong with him. Well, the boy _was_ strange... Hugo didn't pay him any more attention.

"Would you like to come to my house today, Hugo? We made cookies last night," the man said, ruffling his son's hair. His son nodded dumbly. "What do you say?"

Hugo stared back at his house for a moment, contemplating. Manny wouldn't miss him if he were gone for a little while... they did only live just down the street. And there were _cookies. _His mother never let him have many cookies. Sugar was bad for your teeth, she said. And she'd never know he'd had them, anyhow. He looked back at the pair standing before him.

"I don't know..." he responded slowly to the request.

"Oh, it'll only take a minute. I'd take them to you out here, but I don't want to make a mess. Charlie's mother _hates _crumbs and I'll get into a _lot _of trouble if she finds out I've been giving away her cookies." The man stared at him with a knowing grin and winked. Hugo was reminded of Aunt Ginny and her cookie hoarding obsession. It wasn't too hard to believe. "Would you do me the favour?"

"I guess," Hugo shrugged. He wouldn't want to get the man in trouble. After all, the man _was _sharing his cookies. It was the least Hugo could do.

And so they walked down the street to the house that belonged to the nice man and his odd son. Hugo stared back at his house once more as if to ascertain that Manny hadn't caught him leaving the property. She wouldn't care, though, he reassured himself. She wouldn't care even if she saw him now. Manny didn't care about anything he did. Why should this be any different? He nodded to himself, his resolve strengthened as he began what he thought was a crusade for cookies.

That was the last time anyone saw Hugo Weasley for a _very _long time.


	3. Downhill

**Chapter Three: Downhill**

Hermione was late as usual. This wasn't an uncommon occurrence at the Weasley household, especially not during these days. She was tired, she was sore, and she was damn fed up with people who had the audacity to wear a smile on their face whilst talking to her.

Like, what the bloody hell was there to be happy about?

So alright, work was starting to get a bit grating. But that was normal, right? She knew she couldn't just give up her hectic schedule and sleep all day, no matter how much she wanted to. But hey, that was life. She just had to suck it up and manage. She sighed as she tiredly climbed up the stairs, kicking her shoes off and undressing on the way up.

Fuck it, she had a nanny for godsakes. The nanny would pick it up in the morning or something. That's what she paid the kid for, wasn't it? She didn't know and she certainly didn't care. It was four in the bloody morning. When she had gotten home, she had found Manny fast asleep on the couch. She didn't bother to wake the kid up.

When she reached Hugo's room, she silently opened the door to peek inside, making sure not to wake him up. He had always been a light sleeper. Before she could even open the door, she stopped dead, turning around on the spot as if dazed.

What was she missing? There was something _very _important she was forgetting to do. But what could it be? What could possibly be more important than kissing her boy goodnight and making sure the most important person in her life was sleeping safely and soundly?

Hmm...

She heard a clatter downstairs and a sharp whistle that made her jump horribly. That was right! She'd left the kettle on to make a cup of tea when she'd come home... just a light little snack before bed. She'd completely forgotten!

Thanking her overly tired brain for reminding her of her stupidity before the house had burned down, she shut Hugo's bedroom door behind her and hurried downstairs to attend to the kettle. If only she hadn't been so clumsy whilst doing it. She banged her way down the stairs, waking Manny up in the process. She was surprised Hugo hadn't poked his cute little head out the door to find out what was making such a huge ruckus. Maybe he was really deeply asleep. Must have been tired after a long fun filled day...

"What's going on?" Manny sleepily grumbled, squinting at her through the glare of her wand light.

"Sorry. You can go back to sleep," Hermione offered. She was sort of maybe just a little sorry that she had woken the girl up, but not sorry enough to be nice to her if she continued talking. There was a limit to how much annoyance a human could take, and Hermione had already passed that threshold. It didn't help that she was extremely exhausted too.

But thankfully, Manny just nodded and went back to sleep.

Half an hour later, having consumed a cup of tea and several biscuits to calm her starving stomach, Hermione made her way back upstairs glad that she could finally go to bed and have some much needed sleep. She was just desperate to feel her soft pillow pressing against her cheek... a light blanket covering her weary bones... just _sinking _into the mattress...

When she passed Hugo's room, she paused. Had she checked up on him earlier? She remembered opening the door... Yes, she probably had. When she grazed the doorknob on her way across the hallway, she suddenly remembered that she had a presentation tomorrow that she had to prepare for first thing in the morning. God, yes, how could she have forgotten that?

And so, Hermione made her way to her room and collapsed onto her bed. She was asleep before her head had even touched the pillow.

/

Draco put up his most brilliant fake smile for the cameras as they flashed maniacally around him. He had his hand firmly planted on Scorpius' shoulder and his arm loosely placed around Astoria's waist. He actually had to try hard not to strangle the bitch where she stood.

But that wouldn't do. Too many witnesses. He would have to wait until the end of the night, perhaps. He could corner her in the loo and bash her stupid little head against the sink until she slowly bled to death. OR! He could poison the bint at dinner! No muss, no fuss. Wasn't that his motto, anyways? Yes, that was exactly what he was going to do, and it was going to go brilliantly just like every other bloody thing he put his mind to.

_You can't kill your wife in front of so many people, you idiot! _Said a voice inside his head. His smile dimmed just a tiny bit. It was that annoying voice of reason in his head. Why the fuck was it there? But more importantly, why the hell was it messing with his ingenious plans?

_Because they're not so genius obviously. God, Malfoy, you're slipping up! I'm the only thing keeping the both of us alive and you know it. _

He had to stop himself from gritting his teeth and growling. As much as he hated to agree with the annoying little nag inside his head, he had to admit that it was right. He couldn't just up and kill his wife at such an event. What if the suspicion fell on him? Not that it would. He was a well respected member of the wizarding society of elites. But it wouldn't do to draw unnecessary attention to himself.

That was the last thing he needed. He was, after all, the man of the hour...

Yes, that was right. He was being celebrated at this pathetic excuse of an event. Him and his brilliant genius. He had cracked another case and put another psycho behind bars. Half of the cells in Azkaban's highest security floors were filled because of yours truly. Yes, Draco was adept at his job and the wizarding world was indebted to his expertise.

Even the auror department at the ministry and its head - the great and noble golden boy, Harry Potter – respected him for his work. Gold and silver did match together brilliantly after all. No matter that it had taken the Gryffindor poster child more than a decade and a half to figure it out. But that was alright. Draco didn't see the need to hold that particular grudge any longer.

Draco and his line of work were very distinct. He was not an auror and he definitely didn't work for the ministry. As if he would stoop so low as to let a bunch of fools practically _own _him. He was perfectly happy working for himself, thank you very much!

No, Draco had his own brand of vigilante justice that he liked to dish out from time to time. He was essentially a more glamourous version of a superhero. Minus all that costume bullshit, of course. And hiding his identity? Why the hell would he do that? Everything he did was legally sanctioned. Witch Weekly had entitled him a bad arse, which was true. The Daily Prophet had labelled him the most desirable male in all of Europe. Also true. Rita Skeeter look a likes really were useful after all!

One could say Draco enjoyed his work. He loved the freedom to do things the way he wanted. Loved the fame that was rightfully his, and not just because his parents were rich. He enjoyed that he had made a name for himself with his own bare hands and hard labour. Not that the galleons in his bank account hadn't helped with that...

But most of all, he loved being the one taking down sick motherfuckers, some of which had ruined his own life.

So alright, he wasn't one to forgive and forget.

During the war, he had grown a deep seated hatred of all things that attempted to ruin his perfectly good life. Racism, ideology, and blood purity were all perfectly fine to believe in and practice, but when it personally took over his house and let a fucking snake face run his life... well, fuck that. He had better things to do.

So now, they were all going to suffer for even attempting to mess with him. _Torture? _In his _own bloody house? _Yes, they'd all suffer. Besides, he just didn't _like _some of the bastards. They were seriously fucked in the head. Anyone who was capable of such cruel things deserved to be locked away for eternity. They were a hazard.

To those that would disagree – Exhibit A: Fenir Greyback. Case closed. Point proven.

He surveyed the room, viewing its occupants and entertaining Scorpius with his astute observations. That is, until his bitch wife appeared and whisked Scorpius away. There had been nothing he could do without making a scene, and making a scene wasn't an option at an event like this. No one else needed to know that the great Draco Malfoy had a disastrous home life. So he sat there by himself, attempting to hide his mounting anger.

Instead of shouting at the bint that had irked him so, he rudely gestured to a fearful waitress to bring him his firewhisky. When she did, he knocked it back and gestured for another. She went to fetch it without a question. He repeated the action four times.

"Might want to slow down on the alcohol intake, yeah? Or I'll have to stop you from apparating home."

Draco looked up to find Harry Potter smirking at him just a few feet away. No, not smirking, he corrected himself mentally. That wouldn't be right. Potter was a golden boy, and golden boys did not smirk obviously. No, Potter stood there _smiling _at him. As if he actually had a reason to do so.

Draco gestured for the man to sit down in the chair his wife had vacated not 10 minutes previously. When he did, Draco went back to his drinking spree seemingly ignoring the man, preferring to people watch instead of make proper polite conversation. But Harry was more than used to this kind of disposition on the blond. He had collaborated with Malfoy on many an occasion and had almost begun to expect the aloofness.

He almost appreciated it. He could be anyone in front of the sullen Malfoy and it seemed as if Malfoy wouldn't care or expect anything else. It was almost a relief from the continual expectations his friends, family, job, and society expected from him.

"Something bothering you?" Harry finally asked when the silence had stretched on.

Draco slightly turned his head to face Potter, just enough so he could see the eyebrow raised skilfully in question. "You very well know that I can handle my drink exceptionally on occasion." To that he raised his glass to Potter before downing it whole. "Unlike you and your last year's Christmas fiasco."

Harry chuckled, indicating that he was sufficiently distracted and Draco smirked lightly at his accomplishment. "I'd appreciate you not mentioning that in front of my wife."

It was as if uttering her title had called the she-devil back from whatever pit she had crawled into, for Astoria appeared in front of Draco before he had even registered what was happening. Perhaps the alcohol had impaired his senses after all, because he sure as hell was not prepared for the impending catastrophe. He mentally groaned as he caught her expression. Harry had the decency to look away from what was most likely going to be a full on collision course.

Just to put up an appearance in front of the scar head, he gestured for her to come closer but she shook her head in disgust. So she wasn't for appearances tonight. Well, at least he bloody knew in advance. So he tried another approach and hoped to hell she would go for it so he could at least save _some _face in front of Potter.

"Hello, love," he said in what he hoped was a meek voice. "Having a good evening?"

"No! No thanks to you, _Malfoy!_" she growled loudly, as if she despised belonging to any family he was a part of. "We're leaving. You can stay with your overgrown grabby old ministry friends and don't expect us to be home when you decide to crawl back!" She stormed off, Scorpius staring back at his father apologetically.

She was seething and he had just provoked her. She was lucky that they were in such a public place with so much press covering their every move. She knew it too. She also knew that this type of shit would not fucking fly in the Manor. Why, he would lock her in her goddamn rooms, fuck it all! Perhaps that was why she refused to be home alone with him.

Draco visibly cringed and felt Potter pat his shoulder reassuringly, as if he suddenly understood all of the problems in Draco's life by witnessing that embarrassing exchange.

"It gets better mate," Harry helpfully supplied. "Ginny was always at my throat for these..._events..._" All Draco did was raise an eyebrow once more as if to ask, _really_? "I suppose it's an unpleasant experience all together, but the bickering eventually stops after the steam runs out."

"The steam runs out, does it," Draco muttered uninterestedly.

He supposed if he could get Potter to keep talking, the man would keep off of his back. Harry chuckled, nodded, and took a sip of his drink as if it was the medicine to all of his problems. Draco filed that bit of information away for future use. What an unhealthy view of alcohol.

"I suppose the occupation doesn't help the married life," Harry added knowingly.

Draco sighed. At least Pothead had something there. "Yes, it's a strain," he finally admitted. Potter could hear this bit of information and make of it what he would. "Nothing I can do about that though. It takes up too much time to do things... _properly._" Like slice her throat open and bury her in the fucking back garden, for example.

Harry nodded knowingly. "I know exactly what you mean."

Draco couldn't help it. He just burst out laughing, harder than he had in ages. Harry, slightly bewildered at the strange response, eventually joined in too. Ah, if only Potter knew the _real _thoughts passing through his mind. He'd probably freak and make an arrest, either before or after becoming practically obsessed.

But in the end, Draco's mind and thoughts were safe and the pair moved on to business matters.

"Listen, I need you to keep your Aurors out of the back end of Knockturn alley tomorrow night. I'll owl you the time. Have them close enough, just in case."

Harry shrugged. "That sounds do-able."

Draco grinned properly for the first time that night since he'd walked in through the door of this dreadful event. "We're going to go hunting tomorrow, mate. And I've a feeling we're not going to turn up empty handed."

They toasted to it before falling back into companionable silence for the rest of the night.

/

Hermione yawned as she got up for the day, already regretting leaving her bed. She had barely gotten enough sleep, but when she stared at the clock she realized that she'd overslept and was already late to work. But for some strange reason, she just didn't care. They could manage without her for an hour and a half. She was _tired _for godsakes! Just because she was a woman and a war hero didn't mean that they could overwork her.

When she was ready for work, all dressed and glossed as best as she could manage for that time of the morning, she went downstairs. Manny was still passed out on the couch, unaware of her surroundings and an indifferent Hermione. The girl looked far less composed when she slept, Hermione noticed. She wasn't sure what that said about the teen, but at that moment she was willing to let it slide.

Hermione began to cook breakfast and waited silently, watching the seconds on the kitchen clock tick by.

_Tick. _

Where was Hugo? He was normally up by this time and bouncing around the kitchen.

_Tock. _

Perhaps he was just tired? He could just be sleeping, of course...

_Tick. _

She wondered if she ought to wake him. This was their time of the day after all...

_Tock. _

No, she ought to let the poor kid sleep.

_Tick. _

But she ought to check on him, at least. Yes, she'd do that. Kiss him good morning before she left.

Smiling at her decision, she made her way towards the stairs quietly. It was alright that her baby had slept in. They could catch up tomorrow, of course. At the very least he'd be well rested. She almost began humming, her mood was that light. She didn't know the reason, nor did she care to know. She hadn't been this carefree in a long while. Maybe not since Ron had died. She'd certainly never been _this _late to work on purpose since Ron had left Hugo and her to suffer alone...

When Hermione touched the door to her son's room, a great jolt went up through her arm. She was suddenly reminded of all of the appointments she had to attend to that day and that huge presentation of hers that she still needed to prepare for. What the hell was she still doing at home? Her mind became frantic and she _almost _bolted down the stairs in panic.

But on exactly the fifth stair she stopped, paused, and turned right back around to face the door behind which her son lay. A door which _obviously _was charmed against intruders and/or curious eyes. She was tired, yes, but she sure as hell wasn't tired enough to not notice something so obvious. The only thing was... she hadn't put the charms there.

... And she was certain Manny and Hugo hadn't either.

Rushing back towards the door, Hermione whipped out her wand and muttered the counter spells and hoped that was _all _that was stopping her way into Hugo's room. Luckily, when she finally barged in nothing else stopped her progress.

But Hugo wasn't there. No one was.

She began to panic. She searched everywhere. His closet, under his bed, the loo, _her _loo, her bedroom, downstairs, her kitchen... but he was nowhere to be found.

Hugo Weasley was missing. 


	4. Black Blade

**Chapter Four: Black Blade **

Hermione nearly bounded down the stairs in complete panic mode, her son's favourite blue pajamas clutched tightly in her fisted hand. Her cheeks were flushed and she was forcing herself to appear calm and not to just violently sob because her son was missing.

The babysitter was still here, so of course the girl would know where Hugo was and why he wasn't coming out his hiding place when she called for him. There was a perfectly reasonable explanation for this. She was sure there was, and Manny was going to tell her what without any nonsense or she would fucking rip her hair out a strand at a time until the bitch was bald!

_No need to panic, woman! _said her sanity. _Stop overreacting. _

So she listened to it. After all, it had gotten her through many tough times, troubled spots, and seriously sticky situations. Nevertheless, when she reached Manny, all she could do was roughly grab the girl by her shoulders and shake her awake. Staying calm be damned! "Manny! Where is Hugo? Wake up! Where is Hugo?"

The girl woke up with round, surprised eyes and was clearly shocked at her employer's behaviour, but Hermione seriously didn't give a fuck. "What?" Manny gasped out, clearly breathless. Her voice was still a little gravelly from sleep.

"_Where is my son_?" Hermione nearly yelled.

Was this girl as stupid as she looked at the moment, or was this just her morning routine? Whatever the case, Hermione regretted hiring her instantly. She hated people who weren't useful in stressful situations, and if Manny didn't start cooperating in _five fucking seconds, _she would personally sock her in the face!

"Hugo? He...he should be...in his room! In his room... sleeping?"

"_He's not there!" _Hermione actually screamed this time in exasperation. "Where the hell is he? When did you put him to bed last night?"

"I..."

Hermione's eyes widened. "When the fuck did you put him to bed last night, you little bitch?" Hermione grabbed the girl roughly by the shoulders once more and started shaking her violently, as if showing brute force would get her all the answers she wanted. "Answer me!"

There were tears of fear in Manny's eyes, but she stupidly answered anyways. "I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I fell asleep and I don't know..."

But whatever it was that Manny the nanny didn't know, Hermione didn't find. Before the kid could get a word in edgewise, her fist collided with the poor girl's face, knocking her out cold and most likely breaking her nose in the process. Hermione dropped the girl's body to the floor and paused a moment to stare down at her in disgust. She didn't waste any more time calling the Auror department.

It was safe to say that wherever Hugo Weasley was at that moment, his crazy mother wouldn't stop until she'd found him once more. No matter how many idiotic bints she had to punch in order to do it, Hermione Weasley was coming.

_Thanks for not overreacting, _said her voice of reason.

/

Draco sighed while donning his heavy black cloak, securing the hood in its place. It wouldn't do to get recognized where he was going tonight and not many people had such fine white-blonde hair. It was easily recognizable. Then again, being recognized _did _have its advantages, and he wanted to have that card ready to use if need be. Transfiguring his appearance just wouldn't cut it.

There were still those that feared the Malfoy name and were willing to bend over to his every whim. Rightfully so. That was _exactly _where they belonged.

Before leaving his grandiose Manor, he removed a sheathed sword from its hiding place in a secret compartment in the wall above his bed. It simply took three discreet taps of his wand and a minute of chanting to remove the wards surrounding his most prized possession. Within seconds he was able to graze his fingers over the most beautiful object he'd ever set his eyes on. And as a Malfoy, he was constantly privy to many wondrous things.

It was a sword – _his _sword – forged centuries back in the times of Morgana herself. He didn't know whether such a claim was true or even accurate, but he hardly cared. He loved the sword and all the legends that accompanied it. The most curious thing about it was its black blade, shiner and darker than onyx, than night itself. Sharper than any blade the world had ever seen. It was deadly.

The legends spoke of druids, the very first wizards, forging the blade in the depths of night and shadows itself. With that process, they had embodied the very soul of evil in the blade.

But if the blade was evil, Draco did not care. The sword was magical and absolutely the true essence of power. Its magical enhancements that each bearer had probably contributed to it throughout the years were _endless! _

When Draco carried or used the sword, his magical abilities were enhanced – as if he possessed the capabilities of every witch or wizard that had used it before him. His strength and magical capacity increased and it was as if the sword gave him the ability to become sensitive to magical energies, barriers... And simply slice them at their core.

Yes, Draco could not only cripple a person physically with the sword, but magically as well. But he was not stupid. He had never done such a thing and he only used the sword sparingly, only brought it on important missions. Such power was consuming and Draco knew what the results were to lose oneself to power.

After all, the last bearer of the sword had been Voldemort himself. If that wasn't an example, then there was none. Draco strapped the sword to his back, holstered his want to his waist, and left the room. He was ready for the night.

/

When Hugo woke up, he was disoriented. His head ached and he was sure he had slept wrong because every muscle and bone in his body _hurt! _But when he opened his eyes, he realized it wasn't because he had slept wrong, it was because he had lain prone on a cold cement floor for hours probably. His back ached and he was bruised. How had he gotten here? Where was this place, anyways?

Hugo looked around at his surroundings.

He was in a mostly dark room. The only light that seeped through came from the cracks in the floorboards above them, but they were too far up to reach. The little slivers of light were enough to tell Hugo that there were six pairs of scared eyes staring back at him and that their surroundings were covered in dust and damp filth. Why was he here? Where was he? Who were all of these other kids?

"Who are you?" Hugo asked curiously.

"SHH!" they all simultaneously said, staring up at the cracks in the floorboards fearfully. Hugo wondered what they were afraid of and why. He wondered if he ought to be afraid as well.

"What's wrong?" Hugo asked, attempting to get some answers once more. But his curious voice only bothered the six other children. His voice seemed to make them panic for some strange reason he could not begin to fathom. He just didn't understand. What was so wrong that they didn't want to talk to him?

One boy came over and clamped his dirty hand over Hugo's mouth. Another boy and a girl came to restrain his arms. Hugo began to struggle, but they were too strong for him. It hadn't occurred to him to be truly scared up until this point, but he was scared now. Truly, honestly scared.

But as Hugo would soon find out, all of his struggling in this strange and scary place would always be fruitless.

/

Draco melded into the shadows, careful not to be seen by the folk that passed through Knockturn Alley. It was a dangerous place to be during the day, but once the midnight bell struck ringing precisely twelve times, the streets were flitted with figures that no witch or wizard would want to meet under any circumstances.

And that was what Draco was. He was just another nameless terror passing through the shadows like he belonged in such a dangerous territory. He was unmarked, faceless, almost like a ghost. He was just like the rest of them, another wandering soul willing to commit atrocities to the next living thing that disturbed their unrest.

Draco had gotten rather good at blending in with the dark figures. He left them alone and they did the same. Together, they seemingly wandered with no destination, but with very evil intents.

As it was, Draco did have a destination that night and more than evil intentions. He trudged down the street slowly, almost dragging his feet against the cobble-stone street. To any passerby it would seem as if he was merely gliding. But Draco had always been good at deception and appearing as that which he was not.

The friction his feet created with the ground made the sword slung comfortably across his back nearly sing in appreciation. Draco shuddered. When the sword was happy, there were no annoying voices of reason in his head. Only him and the voice of the sword – sweet, slow, and whispering. As if it _loved him, _revelled in their _aloneness... _

When Draco reached the back end of Knockturn Alley, he stopped and waited. Tonight was the night when all of his hard work of the past six weeks of searching for this man would come to an end. He knew that the man was hiding here in the very shabbiest and most deplorable area of Knockturn Alley. Not even the shadow folk came to this area at this time of night.

Only the most evil, the most desperate entered here... And tonight Draco would too, just to finish the job he had started.

_Close your eyes... _

He listened to the slithering, hissing voice in his head and immediately his senses were bombarded with a multitude of colours that the dark, damp street could hardly have provided, no matter how hard it tried. The sword began to vibrate gently on his back, as if it wished to release all of its pent up energy and power right at that moment.

On second thought, it probably did.

/

"You have to be quiet!" the boy whispered in Hugo's ear desperately. His voice was hoarse, gravelly, and his breath absolutely _stank. _Hugo cringed. "We'll let go, but you have to promise to be quiet or he'll hear us..." Hugo nodded. Anything to make them let go of him was acceptable.

They tentatively let go of his arms and the boy removed his hand from Hugo's mouth, which Hugo discretely wiped. "What man?" Hugo whispered meekly, hoping that this time they wouldn't hold him down like that for talking again. He wondered what was going on for the hundredth time and wished his mother was with him.

Thankfully, they kept their hands to themselves. Two other children came out of the shadows to join the circle, but one little girl sat in the corner and ignored the actions of the others around her. It was as if she was unaware of everything. Her face was expressionless. Hugo felt as if something really bad had happened to her to make her behave that way...

"The man that brought us here," one of the girls whispered. "The man that brought you here... Do you – Do you not remember yet?" she asked, even quieter than the others. Hugo shook his head no.

"You will," one of the boys whispered. Hugo felt as if he vaguely recognized him. Had he seen him before? "You'll remember soon enough."

/

Draco inhaled the musty air of the street, shivering in pleasure as he was able to feel, _to see, _every particle of magic in play around him. He _loved _this feeling, fucking relished it! It was as if every aura, every magical signature, and even the residue of long forgotten spells were all at his mercy. It was all his to use, his to do with whatever he wished. So long as he just drew his sword... Oh yes, so long as he let the sword participate and take part in a little bit of the power hunt...

He could literally feel the sword's anticipation, could feel it urging him to draw it so that all the power could be theirs. But tonight wasn't the night to experiment with the black blade, as he fondly called it. He had work to do tonight, stuff that was more important than power. He had _more _than enough power at his disposal, he told himself.

Draco didn't notice the colours in his vision dim a little bit.

It didn't matter, anyways. The sword could rest now if it so wished. He had already spotted the magical signature he had been hunting for the past six weeks. He knew everything about that particular signature that just glimmered there, teasing his eyes. Everything there was to know about it and the man that it was attached to.

And they lay _just _beyond that door.

He muttered several complicated incantations for the sword to lay low and become dormant before nonverbally casting a Patronus in the opposite direction of the rundown building he stood in front of. For some reason, when the sword was alive and bustling, Draco was not able to cast his Patronus. It was strange, really. Quite a shame, he thought, as he watched his fox trot away.

He waited.

In a matter of four minutes and twenty-six seconds, Harry Potter and a team of seven Aurors stood silently at his disposal. He exchanged a look with Harry before silently nodding. Harry motioned for his team to disperse, which they did, staring to secure the perimeter. Draco could see at least one of them appear on the roof of the building, moving his lips soundlessly as he searched for hidden traps.

Draco smiled. He knew they wouldn't find anything. He had come here the day before to make sure the surroundings were safe for a breach. Of course, it never hurt to be safe...

He turned towards Harry then as they crouched in the shadows, waiting for the affirmative. "Got here pretty fast, Potter."

Harry just shrugged. "Been waiting for your signal," he muttered. "Wouldn't want this one to escape. Bastard's wanted on three continents."

Draco nodded. "Nasty bugger, this one." He shifted his weight to his other foot to avoid his legs from going numb. That would be _so _inconvenient in a situation like this. "Should've started on him with the last massacre they explained away." Harry sighed but didn't respond. How curious... "What is it, Potter?"

"I'd rather not think of departmental failures just right at this moment," he whispered back, looking around them uncomfortably. "You know, _before _we walk in to catch a raving mass murdering lunatic..." He trailed off as if forgetting he was about to say. He sighed again.

Draco smirked. "Scared, Potter?"

Harry raised a brow and smirked back. "You wish."

Together, they raised the hoods of their cloaks once more to hide their respective identities and approached the door of the building in which their soon to be prisoner lay hidden. Draco knew Harry's team was placed in all of the strategic locations surrounding the building that he'd requested. The anti-apparation wards were already in place. He'd seen to it.

When Harry received the signal from his team that all was ready to go, he nodded at Draco to proceed. Draco lifted his fist to knock loudly at the heavy door. Once, twice, thrice... just as he'd seen all of the other prospective customers do during his scouting of the place.

The door creaked open and he and Potter stepped in. It shut loudly behind them.

/

There was a loud knocking upstairs and all of the children jumped, including Hugo. They hid as best as they could in the shadows, pulling Hugo along with them. After all, he was one of them now, and it wouldn't do to just let him learn the ropes on his own. That would just cause unnecessary trouble...

A collective shiver passed through the group as a pair of heavy feet passed over their heads. Hugo trembled, genuinely scared now. Whoever the man was upstairs, he was not good news. They all heard the door open and heard it slam shut behind whoever it was that had come in.

"Whatever you do," whispered the boy closest to Hugo's right, "don't make a sound." Hugo nodded dumbly.

All they heard for the next half an hour was a constant grumble of voices.

/

Harry and Draco followed the man that had opened the door further into the building, until they eventually reached what seemed to be the psychopath's office. This must have been where the man conducted all of his business. Well, good for him, but it wasn't going to last much longer.

He offered the both of them seats in front of the large desk that took up most of the space in the room. "Now, I trust you've brought the necessary galleons?" Draco gestured to Harry, who pulled out a heavy looking sack from the depths of his cloak. The man's eyes lit up. "Good! Good! Now what can I do for you fellows?"

Draco leisurely crossed his legs, leaning back into the decrepit chair, as if he owned the place. He had his wand loosely pointed at the man. "You see..." Draco began. The man froze at the sound of his voice. "There is this cell I'm just _itching _to fill and I do believe you're a collector's edition! Wouldn't you agree, Potter?"

"I believe that's right, Malfoy," Harry nodded.

"And there's this fat sum of galleons," he continued, gesturing to the fat sack of gold in Harry's hands, "that'll just go to my already filled vaults if I get you there. Isn't that right?" Draco grinned, continuing his conversation with Potter as if the man were no longer a factor.

"Why, that's _absolutely _right!" He could tell Potter was amused. The man, on the other hand, was scared shitless.

"M-Malfoy?" the man sputtered.

Draco grinned. He just _loved _the feeling of making people's heart stop with just dropping his name. Ah, it was pure bliss. Harry stood up. "The one and only," he supplied, gesturing to the blond who had also stood up by that point.

Draco dropped his hood. "Miss me, Yaxley?"

/

Nearly an hour later, they heard the door slam again as whoever had come in had obviously just left. They all stared up as they saw the man's heavy feet walk above them once again, this time dragging something behind him.

Hugo's heart nearly stopped in fear when he heard the heavy steps slowly coming closer, probably down a set of stairs. There was a thick "_thunk" _after each step, as if he were dragging something too heavy to carry after him. Hugo shivered. Whoever had brought him here was coming to see them now. All seven pairs of eyes stared at the door fearfully.

It was finally opened with a huff.

In came the man, the man from the street, dragging his son Charlie behind him by the hair. Charlie seemed to be unconscious and the man seemed to be out of breath. He threw the unconscious boy towards the rest of the children, some of which whimpered.

That was when he caught sight of Hugo, cowering amongst the other children.

"How do you like your new home, Hugo? Hmm? All to your liking?" He smiled the most evil smile Hugo had ever seen on a human. The man stepped forward and kicked his son in the side, but Charlie didn't wake up. "Aww. Don't want to play?"

Hugo nearly ran to the farthest wall and screamed as loud as he could. The man only laughed as if this were a reaction he got all the time. "That's alright, little bugger. Maybe another time. I've got stuff to do anyway."

And with a huff, he shut the door and was gone. They heard him go up the stairs and soon after saw his feet pass above them. The children pulled Charlie to them and tended to the unconscious boy as best as they could. It wasn't much, but they hoped it was enough to help the damaged boy live.

Hugo finally understood what a predicament he was in and began to cry – no _sob. _The other children tried to console him, tried to get him to stop, but it was useless. They knew it wouldn't have worked anyways. After all, each of them had cried exactly like Hugo when they had arrived.

Eventually, Hugo fell asleep. Much later, Hugo remembered. 


	5. Good Luck, Granger!

**Chapter Five: Good Luck, Granger! **

Harry Potter wasn't normally the type to be surprised.

No, after having the life he had, it wasn't very easy to shock him. He'd wrestled a troll and found the philosophers stone at the age of 11, screwed over a Basilisk and solved the mystery of the Chamber of Secrets at age 12, he'd fought against an escaped convict and had won the Triwizard tournament...

Was he forgetting something? Oh right. He'd defeated the most psychopathic, deranged, _dangerous _Dark Lord of all time.

He really needed to not forget that little detail...

But since then, his life had only gotten crazier. It turned out that the Auror department was more than willing to capitalize on his good luck and apparent skills in the most dangerous of cases. Since his golden days, he'd travelled the world after the most insane of monsters and people alike. And as the years had slowly passed, as he had aged none too gracefully, his sense of shock and surprise had slowly whittled away.

It was safe to say that it took a lot to surprise the saviour of the wizarding world.

But when his best friend, Hermione Weasley, had burst into his office by means of his personal floo, Harry was a tad bit surprised. After all, Hermione was far too occupied these days for social visits, as was he. It was barely past seven thirty in the morning, and he had only just come into work himself. It was too early in the day for Harry to be truly occupied with anything too pressing. He briefly wondered if Hermione had come to take advantage of the precious lull.

Moments later, when he caught sight of her panicked expression and the waterfall of tears that were cascading down her red cheeks, he tossed the idea out of the window. There was something gravely wrong with his friend, he realized. Wrong enough for her to barge in unannounced.

Hermione _never _barged in unannounced. She was far too considerate to ever do something so... rude?

"Harry!" she nearly screeched the second her eyes found him sitting dumbstruck behind his desk.

"Hermione, is something wrong-"

"Hugo's missing!" she cut him off. "My baby is gone!"

Immediately, a surge of worry swept through him and took rest in his chest for his godson. "What do you mean, _missing?" _he asked, getting up from his seat and reaching for his wand unconsciously.

"He's _gone, _Harry! What am I going to do? Oh god, Harry... you have to help me! Please, you need to help me with this..." And with that, she had collapsed in a heap on his office floor in a dead faint, falling too quickly for him to sidestep his desk and catch her. Her mind had been too delicate to deal with such a catastrophic situation and her body too weak and exhausted to cope with the resulting stress.

But at the very least, she had managed to make it this far. She had managed to alert the most powerfully connected wizard in all of England. No one said no to Harry Potter – he was the saviour, obviously. Not to mention, Head Auror!

Harry, true to his legacy, leapt into action the moment he realized what was required of him. Gently levitating his unconscious friend onto his office couch, he alerted the entire department of what would be their new case. By eight o clock sharp, the entire department was filled busily, every Auror frantically scrambling to get their respective jobs done.

Harry loved the beginning of a new case, especially those that involved the entire department. He felt powerful in such situations, every genius mind that resided in the room looking to him for guidance. And guide them he did! He loved the hustle and bustle... loved the action. But today, the excitement and the contentedness of being occupied thoroughly was not present. His godson was missing and the mother of his favourite nephew was still passed out on his office couch.

By eight thirty, Harry had a group of Aurors present at Hermione's house, searching for signs of the missing Weasley. He was present himself only a half an hour later, with a very distraught Hermione crying into his shoulder. He had had to calm himself down before his the Aurors had called for his guidance to double check what they had found.

Harry had had to leave her at her kitchen table, sobbing over a cup of tea, before he went to assess the situation himself.

He started with the clearly distraught teenager that one of his Aurors had to revive from the living room floor. It seemed that Hermione had knocked the girl out cold before coming to find him and it soon became apparent why.

"I swear, I don't know... he normally is in bed! I...I didn't think to check on him, he's really good like that and -"

Harry sighed. This wasn't going to be useful at all.

"Keep her in custody," He muttered, before he left her with the uncomfortable man that had been questioning her. The girl was insipid, he could immediately tell – anyone could see it now. He was sure that no one would question Hermione's violence, not after speaking to the idiotic girl. She wasn't going to be of any use to the investigation. The case was clear – the babysitter had done everything but her job.

Instead, Harry decided to make his way up the stairs. His slow trip up the flight made two things very clear, and he knew that they were in a lot of trouble even before he had reached Hugo's room to confirm his suspicions.

First, there was a residue of magic that had a distinctly dark essence to it all over the flight of stairs, residue that did not belong to Hermione, the babysitter, and definitely not Hugo. There were layers that seemed to be sitting there, piled on for _weeks._ Second, it all seemed to have appeared out of nowhere.

Harry shivered imperceptibly.

He contemplated his findings. Most magic commonly held traces distinct to its caster – as a piece of art is indicative of its painter. There was nothing distinct here. In fact, if he hadn't been thoroughly searching, he wouldn't have noticed it at all. It was as if it had intertwined with Hermione's magic, literally woven itself into it so that it was nearly untraceable.

_If Malfoy hadn't shown me the difference... _

Harry shivered once more, looking up the flight of stairs to see his Aurors looking at him curiously. They didn't question him, though, and he didn't offer an explanation. Some things were better left unsaid.

He continued his search, examining each step on his way up. It was _strange. _Something he had never seen before. How the hell could magic just appear from nowhere? How could it be so... nondescript? _It's as if the kidnapper doesn't even exist. _

But in the years since he had left Hogwarts behind, Harry had become a patient man. He knew not to act rashly, not to just jump on every little piece of information he had. He knew that that was the kind of thing that could get a person killed. He knew the best option at this point was to remain calm. At least until he had confirmed his suspicions.

He made his way to Hugo's room. He knew it was his nephew's room because of all of his visits to the same place...to meet the little boy that was now missing. He stopped himself from overreacting, from reacting at all, and began his search of the room. There were barely there traces of concealed magic, strongest in the corner behind the wardrobe that looked right over the bed. But no matter what Harry or the other Aurors did – nothing appeared.

They were empty handed, literally. It was as if there had been no magic at all, but for the tiniest of traces that couldn't be concealed. If it hadn't had such a darkness to it, Harry would've assumed it was simply Hugo's accidental magic. But dark it was, and a gloom set about Harry's shoulders.

They were at a dead end.

At first, Harry hadn't realized the gravity of the situation. No, when Hermione had burst into his office a mere few hours previous, Harry had just assumed it was the worry of a hysteric mother. He had been worried too – it was his godson for Merlin's sake! He had simply gathered all of the Aurors under his disposal because he loved the little boy as much as he loved his own children. But now Harry knew this was far more serious than anyone had anticipated.

They were dealing with an extremely dark and powerful wizard who apparently didn't bloody exist.

Yet, Harry tried his best. He did what any man would do in his position with the power that he had. Within the hour, the news had been spread to all channels of information available to him. By the end of the day, all of Britain would have their eyes peeled for Hugo Weasley. Harry Potter was nothing but efficient, but even he knew a lost case when he saw one.

Only one man could help them now and it was best if Hermione saw him immediately.

/

Draco was absolutely _exhausted. _His night chasing after Yaxley had been fun – yes, the chase was always fun – but what came after the chase always required more patience than necessary. He had insisted that he take Yaxley to Azkaban himself. Potter had never liked the place and Draco had always enjoyed seeing his jobs through to the end.

If only that didn't require hours upon hours of paperwork and an unnecessary trip to the ministry! He had no idea why he couldn't just shove the bastards into a cell and go home – let the Aurors do the paperwork. That's what they were good for, anyways.

But he begrudgingly accepted the menial tasks if it meant that he could put the evil fuckers behind bars himself. Why, he'd endure more than a few hours of idiocy if that meant he could enjoy the task of destroying the lives of those that had destroyed his. Revenge was sweet. He was willing to suffer for revenge...

Now, if only revenge could just _not _take all night.

It literally had taken all night. It had been well after six in the morning when Draco had apparated his unconscious captive to Azkaban. He had stayed for an approximate hour, ensuring the bastard had the most uncomfortable accommodations that Azkaban had to offer. His visit to the Ministry right after had taken _far _longer than necessary due to an admiring secretary which he just didn't have the energy to tell off.

By the time he had deposited his black blade into safekeeping and returned to shut down his office properly, it was well past ten in the morning. He was tired. He was haggard. He was ready to take an extended vacation.

This wasn't unusual behaviour for the young Malfoy. Draco rarely worked two jobs close together. As much as he hated to admit it, the Auror department didn't require his help all that much – only with the worst kinds of psychos. And Draco was more than willing to help out. They did pay him generously for his services and he genuinely enjoyed the tasks.

Yawning as he locked away a few files into his desk drawers, he decided he would take an extra long vacation. Potter could do without him for a while... Yes, Potter was capable of handling himself for a few weeks, wasn't he? He wasn't Potter's fucking sidekick. Potter was the golden hero boy wonder, or some shit like that... Potter could –

Why the hell was Potter stepping out of his floo?

_Woah... _Was that _Granger_?

All he could do was sit there and gape at the pair that stood staring at him. It took him a minute to realize that he wasn't hallucinating – yes, he was tired enough to hallucinate – and that the two people that had tormented him most throughout his adolescence were standing just on the other side of his desk. On his expensive rug. With their dirty shoes, no doubt...

_Didn't they have any manners? _

"Malfoy, we need your help," Harry began without an introduction.

But Draco ignored him. Potter was always talking, always on about what _he _needed. Draco wasn't particularly interested in what Potter needed at the moment. He was more curious as to why side-kick Granger was standing there, staring at him like he had offended her personally. Well he hadn't. Not in recent years... so she could just wipe that snotty look off her small, annoying little face.

"Is that really you, Granger?" he questioned stupidly. He had nothing better at the moment to address her presence. Normally, he would've been far more sarcastic, hilarious, and suave. But he was too tired. He had spent too many sleepless nights on the case. One too many, apparently.

"Weasley," Harry automatically corrected him. "She needs your help, Malfoy."

"Is that so?" Draco peered at them unconcernedly. It had been years since he'd last seen her. She _had _gotten married, hadn't she? Yes, she had... he remembered it in the papers. She didn't look a bit like she'd been put through the tortures of marriage. No, she looked quite fantastic, in fact. Besides looking a little frazzled, she looked like she had finally hit puberty. Seemed like she had filled out and all.

He almost missed what she had said to Potter, the first words out of her mouth since she'd arrived. She stared Potter down as if she was about to kill him, which, if Draco remembered her temper correctly, she probably was ready to.

"Are you being serious?" asked Hermione, her face contorted in rage.

Draco looked at Harry blankly, then to Hermione's incredulous expression, repeating the action no more than four times until finally his eyes narrowed a fraction of an inch. "Woman, are you for _real_?"

Who did this stuck up bitch think she was anyways? He watched as her angry expression was turned towards him, as if it was _obvious _that someone like him couldn't help her. Well, fuck her, then. Just because he looked like shit due to his excessive work habits, didn't mean she had to judge him.

He nearly cringed. He had seen a mirror. He knew he looked as if he hadn't showered or shaved in days. He had a blank expression on his face for the most part, too tired to keep up his facade, and bags under his eyes the size of craters on the moon. They had caught him by surprise, he defended himself in his own head, he hadn't had the time to put on a glamour charm...

But Hermione Granger – Weasley, whatever the fuck it was, ignored him. She chose to focus her anger on the mighty Potter. "I thought Hugo meant more to you than this!" she hissed. "He's gone and you're wasting time with this...this..."

"Prat?" Draco supplied for her. "Bastard? Fucker? Death Eater scum?" He had a dangerous smile on his face, and she almost recoiled at the sight. He looked off his rocker. "I've heard it all, Granger, you're just going to have to be a little bit more creative."

She didn't answer. He hadn't expected her to.

He took his time staring at her, his chin rested against his palm. When she didn't move, just continued staring him down, he turned his gaze to Potter instead. "Next time, a warning would be nice before you bring this unnecessary bollocks into my workspace." He caught Potter opening his mouth to respond, but Draco cut him off before he had the chance. "No, Potter. My services don't extend to..." he let his gaze sweep over Hermione, "_ungrateful, insolent witches." _

So he could've come up with a better come back. He was too tired to care. What he wasn't expecting was Granger to come right up to his desk and slap him as hard as she could before turning around and glaring at Harry.

"I don't need this bullshit! Why the fuck would you bring me here?" So the insolent bitch had quite the tongue did she? "I demand you take this seriously!"

It took Draco exactly thirty-six seconds to realize that the monstrosity that stood before him had _slapped him! _He could feel the cheek she had unleashed her fury on slowly turn red. And by hell did it make him angry! She would pay. He had the resources to do that now. Violence wasn't the answer, not this time. But she would suffer for this...

"Good luck, Granger!" he chuckled. She turned around, surprised he was even talking. He stalked towards her and all Potter could do was grip at her arm and stare at the confrontation helplessly. "Take you seriously? No one's going to take you seriously now. You picked the wrong man to piss off!"

Her eyes narrowed and Draco felt a thrill run through him. "I'm not afraid of you, Malfoy. Never have been and I'm not planning to start now!" She poked him in the chest and turned towards the floo, pulling Potter with her.

But before she could leave, Draco grasped her spare arm, pulling her roughly back around so that he could bend down and stare at her right in the eye. "You're going to wish you hadn't said that, Granger," he threatened quietly. "You're going to beg for me, right here on this floor, by tomorrow morning."

This time he caught her hand in mid air before it could strike him.

"Now, get the fuck out of my office!"

When they were good and gone, after much shrieking from the witch at both men, Draco finally returned to his chair. He needed a drink for the headache Granger had given him. He groaned and rested his head in his arms on his desk. Feuds always took a lot of work and that would mean that vacation was out of the question.

_Well then you should've kept your temper, idiot! _

He groaned again, rubbing his head this time. He had been planning to try to convince Astoria to let Scorpius spend a few weeks undisturbed with him. But that would have to wait now, it seemed. Eventually, he knew he had to get up and get things done, but he honestly didn't feel like it. He had to convince himself that it would be worth it once he saw Granger's face. She would beg, he knew it. He had the Minister and everyone in that building wrapped around his little finger.

_She doesn't stand a chance! _he thought gleefully.

So, he locked up his office and went home to make himself look a little bit more presentable for the long day he was going to have. He was amused and excited at the prospect of making his school nemesis beg him for mercy. He would make hell rain down on her so hard that she'd cry.

But the only thought that lingered with him all day was the fact that the nagging voice inside his head, the very voice that had kept him alive these many long years... well, it sounded suspiciously like Granger, and he couldn't figure out why the hell that was. 


	6. Reasoning is the Devil

**Chapter Six: Reasoning is the Devil**

Hermione was furious.

No, furious just didn't cover it! She was murderous, she was deathly worried, and she was just about ready to rip Harry fucking Potter's balls off. She silently wondered if he would scream very loudly or if he'd take it like a man... Or was Ginny right? Were all men babies? As she watched him pace through his office, running his fingers through his already messy hair, Hermione nearly screamed at him.

But he beat her to it. "Why! Why would you do this?" He had a glare plastered on his face to match hers.

"Why would you bring me to _him? _Do you realize how much time we're wasting?" she snarled. "Do you care that little about my son that you'd put his life in the hands of that ferret? Fuck, Harry!" She buried her head in her arms, ready to go on a new crying jag. "I can't believe you'd do this to me."

"I'm trying to _help _you!" he nearly roared. He came towards where she sat on his worn office couch and held both of her wrists in her hands, forcing her to stare up at him. "Malfoy is the only one that can help us now."

She tried to escape from his grasp, but he wouldn't let go. Knowing it was a lost cause, she eventually gave up with a sigh. "We need to go to the _Ministry, _not employ a freaking ponce," she muttered. He rolled his eyes angrily and opened his mouth to retort, but she stopped him. "No! You just _love _Malfoy, don't you? He solves all of your fucking cases and just rains glory on your department, I get it. Trust me, I understand it perfectly. I'm not bloody stupid, Harry. I can read politics just as well as you can. I work at the Ministry too."

"Hermione-" Harry began, leaning away from her.

"No! Harry Potter, just accept the fact that you're not always right in these types of situations!" There were tears streaming down her face at this point and Harry had a pained expression on his face. "Just because there are dark wizards involved, doesn't mean you're God and get to call all the shots!"

"What do you mean?" He seemed perplexed or at the very least distracted. His expression at least told her that much.

"I know all about Malfoy. I know how he comes in whenever he wants, does things his own way-" She raised a hand that was still trapped in his to stop his inevitable interruption. "Don't you think I know all about how he works? You might be able to hide all of his habits from the public, but I've got enough ears of my own in the Ministry!"

Harry got up and sighed.

It didn't matter to her, she decided. Harry could pace around and sigh as much as he wanted to, it wasn't going to change anything. She hadn't been lying when she'd said she knew all about Malfoy's... work habits. She'd heard of his drinking, of his leaving the job halfway in the hands of the other Aurors, about the time he had been caught having sex on the job...

When she had stepped out of his floo a mere hour ago and saw him sitting behind his no doubt expensive desk, she had been shocked more than angry. After all, she wasn't in the habit of seeing old school enemies. She had been far too stressed to be polite, far too strung up to care about what he thought.

It wasn't as if he cared for appearances anyways, she thought. He had looked absolutely worse for wear. Well, actually, it looked as if he had been a recently released prisoner of war more than anything else. He looked as if he'd dropped at least ten pounds in the last few weeks, hadn't slept, shaved, or showered in days, and hadn't sat down long enough to figure out where his hands were let alone help her with anything.

But despite that, her sharp eyes couldn't help but take in the surroundings. She couldn't help but quickly see the Order of Merlins, commendations for public service, and the various other awards lined along the walls. The basic simplicity of the office, that was frankly unexpected of a Malfoy, was hard not to notice. But the most shocking observation that she'd made in the few seconds she'd had to observe the room, was that despite the fact that Malfoy looked like absolute shit, it was apparent that if he put in the effort, he'd be one dashing mother fucker.

She couldn't honestly be blamed. Anyone with eyes could see his lean muscles showing through his plain Oxford shirt, with just the first few buttons buttoned down for anyone to see his strong, lean chest... Anyone could see the flawless skin, the sleek hair.

And at that moment, she'd hated herself more than anything. Utterly _loathed _herself! But then a moment later, the anger had set in and she had mindlessly lashed out. Not at Malfoy, of course. That hadn't been strictly necessary. Only at Harry for bringing her to what was clearly her personal hell.

Of course, a mere 15 minutes later she had been able to come up with a plausible explanation for why she'd been unnecessarily rude. She was stressed, Malfoy was a fucking prat, and he wouldn't have been much use to them anyways.

But that was later. Her mind had come up with explanations _later. _She knew that when it was all done and over – and it all would be done and over one way or another – then she'd hate herself for the real reasons behind her actions. But for now, she'd just have to ignore it all, which she was more than content with.

Besides, Malfoy _was _a part, and slapping him had been gratifying.

"But Hermione, that's the _only _person who can help us, no matter what you say."

_He's not what I need... Right? He's not what Hugo needs. _

"Do you remember six years ago when they finally caught Dolohov?" Harry nodded as if it were obvious. It was obvious, of course. That had been the case that had gotten Harry the promotion to become head of the Auror department. "It took you six months to wrap that case up." Harry nodded slowly, as if waiting for her point. "_After _Dolohov had already killed fifteen people."

"But, Hermione-"

"Don't but Hermione me! I know that case was marked down as _successful," _she spat out, "but what about that mother who no longer has her son? Is she just going to have to live with that for the rest of her life?"

Harry shook his head. "It was a loss, I'm not saying I'm glad it happened, but there was nothing we could do-"

"Don't lie to my face, Harry!" He looked dumbfounded, but all she could do was narrow her eyes. "You're going to stand there and tell me Malfoy didn't have you wait that long so you could have a certain conviction before the Wizegmont? I have just as many friends in your department as you do – my husband was an Auror for godsakes! How could you lie like that?"

Harry sighed and took a seat beside her. They sat in silence for a time and she knew that he finally understood exactly what she was going through. This wasn't any old school rivalry. She was just doing what she had to do for her son, what was _best _for her son. She knew he'd see reason now.

"I don't want my son to be a casualty. I won't allow him to become _collateral damage_ in a case that focused around catching some goddamn psychopath! I want my son back..."

"I get it," he eventually responded.

Silence fell between them once more. Eventually, Harry grasped her hand and helped her get up from the couch. She muttered an empty thank you and followed him to his burning fire. They silently flooed to the Ministry. He knew she was attempting to get the Minister to write her an express use of resources, approval to utilize several departments to find Hugo.

But he also knew that that wasn't going to happen. Not anytime soon. No, she had pissed off Malfoy, and if Harry had learned anything over his years of collaborating with the blond, it was that he knew how to hold a grudge.

"This is going to be a long arse day," he muttered as they stood next to each other in the lift.

"Isn't it always?" the occupants muttered back.

/

Hugo started awake. He wasn't sure how he had managed to fall asleep on such a cold, hard floor, but somehow he had. He felt as if something had hit him over the head repeatedly. He wasn't used to feeling so groggy.

When he finally opened his eyes and raised his head, he groaned. But then he realized he wasn't as bad off as he could have been. His head lay in the lap of the most absent looking girl and she had been randomly stroking his hair, scraping her nails lightly against his scalp. He realized this must have been what had woken him. Hugo had always been a light sleeper after all.

He lay his head down once more, so as not to disturb the girl. She startled very easily, he had noticed, and he didn't want to cause her any more pain than she had suffered. Besides, it felt quite nice laying there in her lap. If he closed his eyes, he could _almost _imagine that he were at home, laying in his mother's lap while she stroked his hair. She wasn't worried, and he certainly wasn't on a rock hard floor! No, he wasn't aching or sore...

He _wasn't_ all dirty.

They _weren't _all trapped in this little dungeon type thing...

But unfortunately, he was his mother's son. He just couldn't ignore the fact that he was trapped in this desperately bad situation. And it was all because he had trusted a monster! He couldn't just forget that his mother would be worrying. He knew he had been gone too long and wouldn't be returning any time soon.

But that didn't change the fact that he was planning. Or at least trying to plan, though so far his endeavours had progressed unsuccessfully. That was also okay, he told himself. He had time. He could get them out of here and he knew it.

The reason Hugo Weasley knew he had time was because, unlike some of the other children, he had been listening.

It was almost surprising what sitting in silence could do to a kid. Hugo had learned very early in life that it was best to listen first and talk later – most likely not to talk at all. People would say things, if not in front of him, then somewhere close enough that if he just stopped breathing for long enough – if everything was silent enough, then he could hear things that he clearly was not meant to be privy to.

And silence was not a problem where he was trapped.

In fact, there was almost _too _much silence here. At first, the silence had bothered him to no end. He hadn't understood why the other children wouldn't answer his questions. Why they kept telling him to be quiet. All he had wanted to know was why he was here and what the other children knew. He had wanted to know what was in store for him.

But if the other children had had any inkling of what was going on and what the future held in store for them, they gave no indication. They had all but refused to talk to him, refused to utter a sound for fear that the man from the street would come back to haunt them. Or worse... hurt Charlie again.

Now, Hugo was a kind boy. Of course he didn't want poor Charlie to be hurt, Charlie was his friend after all! But he didn't see why they couldn't explain things to him in hushed whispers. The man upstairs didn't seem to have extendable ears, and as he lived in a house that was constantly squeaking and groaning, Hugo doubted if he would even be able to hear them.

But the others were too afraid to utter a sound. All but the little blank girl that didn't seem like she was fully there.

After the third time all of the other children had gone to sleep, the strange little girl called Hugo over to where she was sitting. It was as if she had _just _realized that he was in the room at all. The girl was an oddity, that was for sure. She would smile at Hugo whenever she noticed his presence, which was not often, and always when the other children had gone to sleep.

But Hugo didn't mind in the least, because it was in these moments that the otherwise blank girl answered all his questions.

"_If you wish for answers," she said, "all you have to do is listen and you'll know. I listen, and they don't even know that I do." Her whispers were soft. Hugo had to lean in really, really close to even understand what she was saying. The girl smelled strange. Kind of like prunes. He had never liked prunes, but he didn't quite mind. It was better than the other boy's nasty breath. _

"_What am I listening for?" he whispered back. "Why are the other kids so afraid?" _

"_They all know that the man from upstairs is evil." And this was all she said, no matter how much Hugo whispered for her to explain. All she had done was pulled his head onto her lap and ignored him. It was as if Hugo didn't exist any longer. It was only after all of the others had woken that she had gone to sleep herself. _

And then Hugo had taken her advice and began to be as silent as the other children when the man was around. He began to hear things that he wished he hadn't, heard things he really didn't understand, and understood what was in store for them.

Apparently, the man needed (or wanted?) eight children. Hugo didn't understand why this was so, and he wasn't sure that he was going to understand any time soon. But the important thing was that there were only seven of them. To Hugo that meant that whatever it was that the man wanted with them would only happen after he had tricked the eighth child into coming here. It had taken the man months to bring Hugo here. Hugo felt that he had a lot of time, then, to plan.

_Another few hours had passed and the cycle repeated itself. _

_Once the children had gone to sleep once more, like clockwork the girl called Hugo to her once more. He had gone willingly, almost excited. She smiled at him as if he were a bright student. He was glad for this. He was more than willing to learn. _

"_You've been listening?" Hugo nodded eagerly. She smiled at his enthusiasm. "He wants our magic." _

_This threw Hugo for a bender. Magic? Their magic? They didn't even have any magic yet. No, they'd have to go to Hogwarts, like his mum had told him, and then the teachers at Hogwarts would give them their magic. Why would he choose them? They were just children... _

_But Hugo supposed that the girl knew what she was talking about. She had been the first child captured, that's what all of the others had told him – grudgingly of course, the others didn't really like to talk. _

He wondered how she knew what she did. He wondered what had happened to her to make her the way that she was. But she didn't offer any explanations and he didn't ask, not wanting to be rude. His mum had always said that bad manners were the worst thing in an individual. Either way, it didn't matter what the man wanted from him or how he was planning on getting it. Hugo wasn't going to let him.

By the time the man returned with the eighth child, Hugo planned to be out of this scary place and he was going to take all of his new friends with him if it was the last thing he would do.

After all, he _was _the son of Hermione Weasley.

/

Draco literally groaned out loud when the last person he wanted to see stepped out of his floo, dropping a bit of ash onto his carpet. What did these people not understand about cleanliness? It wasn't _that _hard of a lesson! But he swallowed his complaint and waited. Perhaps the person he _did _want to see most would follow the idiot boy wonder out of his fireplace.

Only thing was, that didn't happen.

Instead, Potter tried to talk him out of his genius plan. That would've been fine, too. Draco would've understood. Potter was the golden boy, blah, blah, blah. He was obligated to tell Draco to be a good bloke and all that hippogriff shit. Except, Potter had it all wrong. Potter was being the idiot that Draco had always thought him to be.

"...You _have _to help her, you know. It's the right thing to do. It's your job-"

"Potter, will you just shut the fuck up? Seriously, mate. I don't want to kick you out of my office again." Draco sighed and Harry glared at him. Well, that was a lie. Draco very much did want to throw the scarhead out of his office, but it wouldn't go well for him and his brilliant career if he did that more than once a day. It was too bad he had already reached his limit...

"Well?" Harry asked after a few minutes had past. Didn't the man understand anything about _silence is golden? _

"Where have you been all day? Your Aurors have been reporting to me. No one's told you yet, big shot?" Harry looked dumbfounded at his statement. God, how was this man head of his department if he was _this _slow? "_Obviously _I'm going to help the bookworm, you dunderhead! I'm going to make sure I'm the only one who can help her and then she'll have no choice but to beg." Draco grinned almost gleefully. He almost looked demented.

Harry raised his brow, visibly relaxed now that he was sure that Hugo was going to get the help he needed. "That's an awful long way to go for a school rivalry, you know."

It was Draco's turn to raise his brow. "She fucking _slapped _me. Again! No one touches this," he said, dusting off his shoulders. "I'm just having a little fun, is all."

Harry stepped into the fire. "Alright, ferret. I'm warning you now, she's been to the Ministry and she's going to come here and kill you in oh..." he checked his watch, "about five minutes, give or take a second." Draco laughed and Harry somehow found it in himself to grin, despite all of the worry that was clearly consuming him.

With Harry gone, Draco managed to compose himself. So she was going to be here in five minutes, was she? Well, she had quite the surprise waiting for her. He had been to the ministry, had probably been there and back before she had even managed to get out of Potter's office. No one would touch her case now. Even the Auror department would refuse to see her as she would soon see.

Then she'd have no choice but to get on her knees and beg him. Know it all brat! How dare she pick a fight with him? After all of these years, she still kept her stupid little grudge against him. And what for? He hadn't taunted her. He hadn't done anything to her really. She had started this one, but he intended to see it through to the end. She would pay dearly for her stupid little mistake...

He literally was the only one who could help her, anyhow. He had seen the files the Aurors had brought him, had scoured through them as soon as they had touched his desk. This case was bigger than anything he had encountered before. He already had some of his contacts searching through the shadier types of crowds. He expected to hear from them by the end of the day – and then the chase would begin.

He rationalized with himself that he was doing all of this because the case was so _interesting. _Or because it was the right thing to do – helping Granger find her son. It _wasn't _because he needed something more in his life that he just couldn't find himself, no. It wasn't because stupid Granger had lit a fire in him that he hadn't seen in himself for bloody years!

No, definitely not.

But when she stepped through the flames, glaring at him hotly when she found him waiting for her, lounging against his desk, he really had to reconsider. But his mind didn't have time to ponder anything much because she was striding towards him – no, literally running towards him – with a murderous expression on her face.

Alright, this was going to be fun.

Well, at least he thought it would be fun until she grabbed the open ink pot on his desk and threw it all over his brand new shirt. (He wasn't going to admit to himself just yet that he had gone home and changed into his finest just because he knew that she was going to be there and he wanted to impress).

"What the bloody fuck was that for, Granger?" Draco said, staring at his now ruined shirt.

"Because you're an arsehole! Now fix what you've done!"

He tried his best to sound angry, and a part of him really was – that shirt had cost him 200 Galleons! But another part of him was amused. There were other shirts he could wear. This was the best game he had played in a _long, _long time, and he didn't need a wand or a sword to help him play it. Granger baiting was his most favourite game of all.

"I'm sure I've no idea what you're talking about," he said, grinning at her infuriated expression. He could tell that she was just itching to slap him, but was visibly restraining herself for some reason. "Don't you have some place to go? Something to do? Perhaps, getting on your knees and begging like there's no tomorrow-"

That had done it. She swung her hand towards his face, but he had been expected it this time and ducked, laughing at her red cheeks.

"You're a sick bastard, Malfoy. I hope you burn in hell!" And with that she strode towards his fireplace without a backwards glance.

"Shall I save you a seat?" he called after her. He thought he could hear her scream as she flooed off to Merlin knows where. Probably back to the ministry. Perhaps back to Potter to complain about how unfair he was being? It was amusing.

It didn't matter that she was gone for now. She would be back, probably in the next two hours when she realized that every option was now closed to her. He could wait. Besides, he had a lot of work to do. He did have a new case after all.

It was time he give his old friend Zabini a visit. 


	7. Wishful Thinking

**Chapter Seven: Wishful Thinking**

_She had finally come to her senses and made her sorry way to his office. It had taken her long enough, he thought. Had she no sense? She could've saved herself a lot of time, effort, and worry if she had just swallowed her pride and accepted his help the first time hours ago. Not that he hadn't already planned to help her. It was Granger, after all. How could he pass up an opportunity to save her life and rub it all in her face? _

_No, that just wouldn't do at all. _

_So he had been helping her, of course. Been searching and building up the case as fast as he could possibly manage. Hell, he hadn't worked this hard since he and his bitch wife had been trying to conceive Scorpius! And that had truly been a difficult task, indeed. _

_It was a lovely and altogether gratifying sight to see Hermione Granger's bushy little head bowed down in front of him. He was going to memorize the perfection and store it in a Pensieve so that he would never forget this lovely moment – so that the memory would never, ever fade. It was a bit scary how quickly he had become obsessed with the idea of besting her. _

_It wasn't like a crime, or anything. He WAS diligently working on her case, after all... He was just having a little fun along the way at her expense. It's not like it was WRONG or anything... _

_Alright, it was a little wrong, but she deserved it for slapping him like they were still in third year. _

_Finally, he cleared his throat to break the silence that had fallen over them. She looked up hesitantly, as if she'd rather be anywhere than here, which for some reason hurt his feelings. Why? He had no idea and wasn't about to go soul searching to find out. So instead, he put on his best smarmy smirk to dissolve the awkward situation he had put himself in. Well, dissolve it for himself that is. He really wanted her to feel as awkward as possible. _

"_So, to what do I owe the pleasure, Granger?" he asked sweetly. She mumbled something incoherent and his grin only widened at the prospect of Hermione Granger not answering a question with an eager air of bookwormish knowledge. "What was that? I couldn't quite catch it." _

_This time she glared before schooling her features into a very poorly constructed mask of humility. He had to stop himself from laughing out loud at her poor acting. "I need your help, Malfoy." _

"_Oh, you can call me Draco, sweetheart!" he replied cheerily. This time she did glare and didn't bother to remove it off her pretty face. And she did have a pretty face, he realized. Perfectly sculpted and framed by her messy curls. It was strange. He had always despised her head, what with all that trouble it had put him through! But now that he paused and reconsidered – well, Granger wasn't all that bad looking. To stop the direction his thoughts were taking him, he shook his head slightly and continued. "What do you need my help with?" _

"_My son is-"_

"_Missing?" he filled in. "I'm aware, yes. What do you want me to do about it?" _

"_I..." She looked stumped and he secretly rejoiced. _

_So he wasn't going to tell her that he had already began the search in an impressive few hours and that he had already found leads. No, this was much too fun. Progress could always be made on the side._

"_Yes?" he prompted. _

"_I want you to help me find him," she said with conviction this time. _

_Ah, he so loved when they started showing backbone! That was the best part, of course. He could always appreciate people who knew how to navigate difficult situations skilfully. He wondered if Granger would pass his test with flying colours. He secretly wished she wouldn't. He wanted her to break down. She deserved it after all the trouble she was putting him through! This was supposed to be his goddamn vacation time and he was now working harder than he had ever worked on any case – ever. _

_Period. _

"_Was that before or after you so rudely slapped me?" He smiled politely at her as she cringed where she stood and waited politely for her answer. When none came, he crossed his ankle over his knee, resting his chin onto the heel of his hand. His elbow rested deliciously on the arm of his brilliant leather chair. This was fun. He could wait this out all bloody day. _

_Well, actually, he did have a case to work on, so she had better start begging soon. _

"_I'm sorry..." _

_He laughed with more humour colouring his voice than he had in years. "Is that so?" She nodded quickly. "I'm afraid sorry isn't good enough, Ms. Granger." _

_She cringed again. His smile widened a fraction of an inch once more. She made to step forward, but hesitated, conflicted at how to approach her long time enemy. Though why she considered him an enemy still was well beyond him. Oh, was it perhaps he was being an arse and was fantastic at everything he did? Yeah, that would have to be it, he decided. _

_Making up her mind for her, he got up and slowly made his way to his fire. When she noticed that he was making to leave, she visibly began to panic at the prospect. It filled him with crazy joy – so she did need him after all! "Please, Malfoy-"_

"_I'm sorry, I've got things to attend to. You see, this is my vacation time and I've got a very expectant son waiting at home for me." And with that, he took a pinch of floo powder and threw it into his already lit fireplace. The flames began to glow a bright, unhealthy green. But before he could even take a step further, she stopped him. More accurately, she had dropped to her knees on the floor and had grabbed his leg in a death clutch. The action surprised him. It was deeply uncharacteristic of Granger. _

"_Please save my son, Malfoy. Please!" Hermione wept from her place on the floor near his feet. She clutched his robes. "I'll do anything," she sobbed. _

_This was certainly a turn of events, one that he hadn't even been expecting. _

"_Anything?" He arched his brow, his trademark smirk plastered on his face. "Anything at all?" _

"_It's all yours. My house, my Gringotts vaults, all the sway I have at the ministry, you can have anything I own. Just please, please save my son. You're the only one and I'd die if anything happened to him! Please!" She began to sob in earnest now and buried her face into her arms. Something just didn't sit right with him at watching Granger lose it. This hadn't been the reaction that he was looking for but it would have to do for now._

"_Get up," he said, a cold tinge marring his voice. She immediately obeyed, her eyes wide. He decided he liked that look on her, liked the fact that she was listening to him. He began to advance forward. She had no choice but to move back until her back collided against his desk. He continued until he was almost pressed against her, resting his hands on either side of her on the desk, leaning forward until she shivered at his proximity. "I don't want any of that. I have it all." _

_Another tear fell from her pretty, long lashed eyes, but this time she wiped it hurriedly away. That was the Granger he knew! "What do you want, then?" she asked in a low voice. _

"_You. Just you." _

_She gasped quietly and that made his blood pump a little faster, a feeling he could definitely get used to if given the chance. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against hers and – _

Draco startled awake and nearly fell out of his office chair.

Righting himself, he went to work at controlling his breathing and trying to cleanse himself of what his mind had just put him through. But he knew immediately that it was a failed attempt and it would take him a lot more than just a few deep, calming breaths to solve the issues that were no doubt plaguing his mind like a freaking... _disease! _

Immediately, he apparated home and hurried himself into the loo to take an extremely cold shower. Although, that didn't last very long because Draco had _never _enjoyed cold showers. So, he found himself staring at his own reflection in the mirror. It was something that he had found himself doing quite frequently in times of... stress, he supposed. There was nothing quite like staring at oneself, being one's own critic, calling out one's own bullshit.

But the only thought that was going through his head was: _What the fuck? _

Sure, it was true that he was working extremely bloody hard on this particular case, harder than he'd ever worked on anything (maybe except letting the Dementors into Hogwarts – that had been a hell of a challenge). It was also true that Granger had grown up and wasn't a pain to look at. But that didn't bloody mean that he wanted to shag her!

Did it?

/

If there was one thing Hugo didn't appreciate, it was not being able to complete something he had set his mind to. In other words, if Hugo set his mind on something, everyone could be sure that Hugo would finish it no matter what it took or how long he had to work on it to get it done. It was truly a rare occasion that he failed at his acquired tasks and those days were very sad days for Hugo.

But reality is a harsh critic, unfortunately. The fact of the matter was that Hugo was only eight years old and he had never really set his mind to anything _that _big over his very few, very short years. It was no shock that he couldn't come up with a master plan quick enough to escape his predicament and save his new friends in the process.

He was just too young to manage, that was all.

But it wasn't that Hugo was disappointed in himself, or depressed in the least. No, not at all! Hugo was just very, very afraid. Because although this task was nothing like the tasks he had taken on in the past to fill up his spare time, this task was very important to him. Finishing the task on time had been _essential. _

Hugo was young, be he wasn't exactly stupid. He knew that if he didn't finish on time, he and his friends would probably be killed or something.

The man upstairs was crazy after all and it was rather unfortunate then that Hugo did fail.

He _knew_ he had failed when the scary man had come downstairs with their daily portion of food and a body of a little girl dragged in behind him. Hugo knew that their time was up and if they _were _to have escaped, that opportunity had slipped them now.

Because he had heard the scary man's conversation, and the loopy girl had been right all along. They needed eight children and this girl was the eighth. There was no saving them now and the man had all that he needed to do what he had brought them here for. Hugo just hoped that some stroke of genius would hit him before that time came.

He wished something would hit him now so that he could just open the door and make a run for it.

But he had learned early that wishful think was just that – wishful.

/

"You really think this is a good idea, Potter?"

But Harry was too busy reading a letter an owl had given him a mere moment ago to answer his question. Draco sighed. If the man had such a short attention span, how was it that he could run an entire department at the Ministry on a daily basis? Or was the prat ignoring him on purpose? Was that it? He was no longer good enough to be paid attention to?

"I can hear your thoughts all the way from over here, Malfoy. Have some bloody _patience," _Potter muttered, almost to himself. Draco rolled his eyes but he knew that Harry hadn't seen the action because the boy-who-was-too-annoying-to-die was still busy pursuing his mail. What could honestly be more important than attending to his concerns? Wasn't that Potter's job, anyways, to work with his concerns?

They _were _on a job, after all.

Well, more accurately, he was on his way to prove to a bunch of silly Gryffindors that he was worthy of this job. As if he needed to do such a thing! Of course he was worthy. He had pretty much done everything there was to prove himself in the wizarding world! He solved cases, he put bad guys behind bars, he helped Potter get promoted, and he even fucking donated to charities! What reason was there not to trust him?

Well, besides the fact that he had let Death Eaters into Hogwarts, was an ex-Death Eater himself, had supported Voldemort, and was the son of the most bigoted, psychotic man next to snake face... And that was all after bullying the people for seven years...

Well, alright, he supposed they had a point. But who needed to make a point in these kinds of circumstances anyways? He had just broken into Granger's house (hey, he had told Potter he was doing it and had even been under an invisibility cloak!) and had seen the residue magic himself. It wasn't a pretty picture. They were dealing with a seriously powerful dark wizard.

As if a wizard could leave _that _kind of trace without the Dark Arts!

He hadn't been happy when Potter had told him he was to be at The Burrow 8 PM sharp. As if he ever wanted to step inside such a distasteful... _house? Hovel? _But it seemed this was something Potter was not budging on.

"Ginny says there's been quite a turn out," Harry finally addressed him. "You're going to have your hands full, mate."

Draco nearly gaped, and Draco _never _gaped – the action was unseemly and he had been raised better than that, obviously. But the news was just so... unpleasant, that he had almost slipped up. He didn't care though; it was only Potter after all. Potter wouldn't know the difference between bad manners and acceptable social standards if Draco gave him a course in it. The man was hopeless.

"How bad are we talking here?"

"Nothing like your war trial," Harry responded, grinning. Draco cringed. "But I'd say roughly the size of the inner circle of the Order." And Draco couldn't help but groan.

Why the fuck had he agreed to this?

"Do they at least know that I'm coming?" he asked, trying not to strangle himself. Or better yet, strangle Potter where he stood.

Harry only paused for a second before exclaiming a happy, "Nope!" and then running his annoying self off into what appeared the back entrance of The Burrow. Draco was only exaggerating the actions of Boy Wonder _a little. _

There was nothing he could do but rush in behind him shouting, "I'm going to kill you for this, Potter!"

But it had obviously been the wrong thing to say.

Draco cursed himself for cursing Potter so recklessly in what was basically his arch-nemeses' territory. So, alright. Running into a kitchen full of Order members and their little devil spawn, whilst threatening to kill their Golden Boy wasn't the _best _thing he'd ever done... Alright, he knew it was pretty stupid if he had wanted to make a good impression on them. That was the thing, though. He didn't really care at this point. It was going to be a doomed evening anyways, might as well roll with it.

But that didn't make the silence any less awkward.

Thank Merlin for the She-Weasel! She had always had the most sense (and good looks) in the family, Draco thought. He could understand why Potter had decided to marry himself off to the monster who looked like she was about to pop out triplets. "When you're killing my dearest husband off, would you mind disposing of the body? I hate messes."

Draco couldn't help but laugh at her comment. She always _had _made ministry functions more interesting to attend, after all, whenever he was stuck at a table with the Potters. Or maybe he just liked hearing her tell Potter off. "Will do, Mrs. Potter." He bowed his head slightly in her direction.

The rest of them just stared. So he stared back. Surprisingly, a large number of people were present even down to the Minister of Magic himself. Some of them just politely nodded back to him, only those that he worked with on a daily (or semi-daily) basis. Some just stared at him confusedly as if asking what the hell he was doing in the Weasley's hovel. He wanted to tell them he had no fucking clue.

Some just glared. He just smirked back.

"Why don't you have a seat, Malfoy," Harry _finally _offered. The man didn't have manners, obviously, so that was expected behaviour.

Unfortunately, the only free seat was next to Granger and he wasn't so keen on sitting so close to her after his disturbing dream. But some things just couldn't be helped. At the very least, she seemed to be repulsed by his presence! Some things never changed. He was glad. They sat as far away from each other as they could.

Only those that worked at the Ministry were in the loop of how awkward the tension was between the two of them.

"So, Malfoy," the earless ginger said. "Here to be a useless ferret, again?"

"George!" the mother snapped. "Be polite!"

"What? It's not like he's _solving _anything! Making things worse, if you ask me-" Oh, that was right. The lost twin was working with his father at the Ministry, wasn't he? That would explain it.

"Good thing's no one's asking you, Weasley," Draco smirked back.

"Listen here, Death Eater! I'm not standing for this –"

"Death Eater! You've got to be kidding-"

"Watch your mouths!"

"-would rather not get involved in this-"

"Fucking Ferret-"

"EXCUSE ME!" Everyone stopped talking all at once, turning in their seats to look at Ginny Potter who was a little red in the face. "You lot can argue _after _dinner! I'm bloody starved, and if I don't get to eat _right now, _I'm going to bat bogey your faces off!"

"Ginny!" her mother breathed, appalled at her daughter (and the general company's) behaviour.

"What?" the redhead shrugged. "I'm pregnant. It happens."

And then the entire table burst out into laughter. Unfortunately, just because dinner was served, it didn't mean the arguing had ended. Silly insults and reprimands were passed back and forth until Mrs. Weasley had gotten _so _fed up that she had put a silencing charm on everyone.

Draco felt that it was an immensely good thing that he had kept his wand drawn and at the ready from the moment he had stepped into the house, because he'd had enough of being bashed. He had no idea why he'd endured it for so long, anyhow. Perhaps it was the way Potter had kept sending him warning signals or the way Granger had sat stiffly and quietly next to him the entire time – as if she wasn't even there.

He stood up from his seat, noticing in his peripheral vision at how Granger stiffened even further, but that only helped his resolve. "Thank you, Mrs. Weasley, for a lovely dinner." He inclined his head at her shocked expression. "Clearly, I'm not welcome here –"

But by then the earless mongrel had managed to remove the spell off of himself. "Welcome? You'd _never _be welcome here!"

But Draco only shrugged. "I'm not trying to be your _friend, _I'm doing my job. Apparently, Potter thought I needed to _prove _myself to you! The audacity."

"Audacity? You let the likes of Bellatrix Lestrange into Hogwarts and you think it's _audacity?" _By that time Weasley had gotten out of his seat as well, his chair falling noisily behind him.

Draco sighed and rolled his eyes. "Not sure if losing your ear gave you brain damage, Weasel, but your mum here killed off that particular vermin, thank Merlin. Now have some manners and _sit down_." Everyone seemed stunned at his harsh command. Unsurprisingly, the man-child did not sit down. "I don't need to prove myself to anyone," he finally snapped. He'd had enough of these ungrateful people. After all the work he was doing, they were going to treat him like this?

It wasn't even his fucking kid!

Luckily for Granger, he wasn't the type to give up so easily. "I'm a goddamn wizarding criminologist for Merlin's sake! The best in Britain, if you'd done your goddamn research." He shrugged on his outer robes and prepared to take his leave of the dumpster they called a home. "Besides, you lot aren't my client. Let's go, Granger."

She seemed a bit surprised – alright, very surprised, that he was helping her. Damn, that put a setback in his plans, didn't it? He'd have to play it cool later, but for now he was far too angry to deal with anything but managing to get out of here.

She got up from her seat reluctantly, staring at him. "I-" But he didn't give her enough time to finish her sentence. Well, he didn't give her enough time to do anything really, but try her best to hold on to him tightly enough. The second he had a firm grasp on her, he apparated them right out of the Burrow and back to his rightful place at the Manor.

Hermione nearly collapsed against him and he was almost too reluctant to push her away. "Try not to destroy anything, Granger."

"It's Weasley," she muttered, sullenly.

He paused as if regarding her shrewdly. "Yeah, well, I like Granger better."

And after that fiasco he had just been a part of? Yeah, anything was better than a Weasley. Fucking bastards. 


	8. Fragmented

**Chapter Eight: Fragmented**

She didn't know what she was doing here or why she had allowed the one person she hated most in the world right at that moment drag her away from the people she loved. Well, alright, he had sort of caught her by surprise when he had apparated them to wherever they were now – but that didn't explain why she was still here.

She really didn't know why she hadn't apparated back to the burrow to try to convince Kingsley to help her rally up resources. She knew that she would eventually have won that battle, that Kingsley would help her – _a war hero, best friends with Harry, Order member –_ over Malfoy. (With whom relations would eventually have been solved anyways).

So what was the damn hold up?

Perhaps it was because Malfoy had called her his client. Never in all of the cases he had taken had he labelled anyone as a _client. _That much she was sure of. He simply associated and aided the Auror department, and that was all. He was a "criminologist", loosely speaking. He was an expert on dark arts crime, even though the title was basically just a cover up for his vigilante services.

Maybe it was just that. She needed the experience he had under his belt. Her intuition told her that he was her safest bet. If baring her neck to this wolf of a man would bring her son back, then so be it. She was decidedly determined about her next course of action, wherever it would take her.

"And here we are again," Malfoy finally said, gesturing her to a seat in front of his desk. They were not in his main office, so she assumed that they were in the Manor.

"So we are," she managed to croak out. "You know why I'm here."

_You know why I'm at your mercy. _

"Oh, do I?" he questioned, raising a brow. The gesture was somehow familiar, but she couldn't place why. "I was under the impression that I dragged you here against your will." When she didn't respond, the corner of his mouth twitched as if he was fighting a smirk. "I'm actually rather surprised you haven't stormed out yet, or at the very least thrown a fit."

So she'd been a little immature with him in the past few hours. Surely he wouldn't hold it against her? She had been in a lot of stress and under a monumental amount of pressure, after all... and his ferrety face had just been the worst of her problems. Maybe he'd be a little bit decent and let it all go.

Or maybe he'd be like he always was and try his utter best to make her life absolutely miserable.

"Not going to yell at me, Granger?" he asked. She shook her head slightly, weakly. "No? Not going to throw things? Not going to hit me?" Well, alright. She'd be _very _immature with him in the past few hours and he was going to hold it all against her.

So she'd just have to work with that.

"I'm sorry for being immature," she said quietly, hoping that they'd end it at that.

He paused for a moment as if considering the validity of her words. Perhaps he believed her, believed that she really was sorry for being a hot headed brat – and she was, that really wasn't the way she normally acted – and maybe he'd even forgive her eventually. He leaned forwards, resting his chin in his hands. She realized he was the utter picture of poise.

"That's quite alright, Granger," he eventually responded. She could smell his breath from the short distance between their faces. It smelled of mint and chocolate. She wondered why that made her mind spin for a fraction of a moment... Had she remembered to eat?

"Thank you," she breathed, still a little dizzy.

"What's _not _alright is this perception of yours. Your _attitude. _I'd comment on your choice of friends and company, but that's got nothing to do with me." He paused, as if considering adding something. "No, actually, I _shall _comment. Your company is horrendous. Is that any way to treat a guest?"

"You weren't..."

"I wasn't what, Granger? A guest?" He began muttering something that sounded similar to obscenities under his breath while regarding her sitting slumped in his chair. She knew she'd gone white as a sheet at his comment. Why couldn't he just let it go and get on with the work? He'd said it himself, she was his _client. _Not them. Her.

"I don't know."

He rolled his eyes. "Get out of my home. I refuse to help," his eyes raked over her form from head to toe, "people that refuse to respect me under my own roof."

She almost groaned. Why was it always like this? Why did she always have to mess things up by opening her stupid mouth? Why couldn't she have just agreed with him instead of pissing him off? She didn't know. At this point, she honestly didn't care. She was a little bit too dizzy to process all of the thoughts that were running through her head. She felt nauseas... felt like she'd pass out at any second.

"Please, Malfoy," she implored, hoping he'd have some shred of humanity left in him.

"No. Please leave or I shall have to get someone to show you the way out." His tone never faltered from the neutral, polite tone that'd he'd had for the entire conversation. Malfoy was bloody strange. Since when was he _ever _polite?

But then she realized he'd been polite this entire time to her. He hadn't said one rude thing, at least not directly. The only time he'd actually said anything rude was when she'd slapped him, and that had been entirely her fault. She was the one at fault here and that really didn't make her feel any better.

"Please, Malfoy. I'm sorry. I'm sure we can work something out... I can compensate you." He looked strangely at her. What? It wasn't such a strange statement to make, after all. If he was going to help her, she could give him something he wanted in return. "What do you want?" she asked him airily.

"What makes you think I want anything?" was his immediate response.

She was stumped for a second, her brain a little bit too slow to come up with an adequate response. But it was clear enough to her after a second and she _really _didn't feel like dealing with this bullshit nonsense. They had work to do, right? So she had better just cut the chase and get straight to the point. That was the best way to go, she told herself.

"Of course you want something, Malfoy. Why else would you be doing this? Any of this?" she asked, gesturing around the bright, spacious office. It was quite a nice office.

He immediately got to his feet, an angry expression marring his features. She hadn't seen him _that _angry since... since Hogwarts.

"You think I do what I do for _money?" _he growled. She started to feel the slow spread of fear make its way through her limbs. She began to shake her head no, trying to persuade him to calm down by the gesture. "_Fame? _You think I run around catching devils for fucking _attention?" _She started to really panic then, realizing her mistake, only too late. "You're going to come in my home and insult me to my face, Granger, is that it? You lot _disgust _me, you do."

He walked around the desk and she cringed, thinking he was coming to hurt her or something. But when he ignored her completely and began removing wards on some cabinet, she was confused. What the hell was he doing?

Three minutes later he was in front of her again, dropping thick, heavy files right in front of her. They crashed onto his desk with a resounding bang that hurt her ears. He pressed his hands onto her shoulders and made her turn towards them, face them. She had absolutely no idea what was going on.

"You see these, Granger?" he asked her in a deathly low voice, his lips pressed right against her ear. She shivered, couldn't help the automatic reaction. Couldn't stop the gooseflesh from erupting all over her skin.

"Yes...?"

"That's everything the Aurors and I have managed to find about your little son." She gasped at his comment. "Mind you it was mostly me and my contacts, the Aurors are a bunch of idiots." She reached towards them to grab, no doubt, but he stopped her, restraining her to the chair. She was too weak to protest. That is until he snapped his fingers and bright blue flames began to eat up the files right before her eyes.

Then, she began to kick and scream.

But it appeared that she was too weak to manage anything but tire herself out. Then all she could do was sit there and cry as she watched the only clues of Hugo's location burn to crisp. When they finally turned to ashes, he let her go and she began to sob in earnest.

"How does it feel, hm?" he whispered to her. Then, without notice, he pulled her roughly out of her chair. "How does it feel!" he yelled this time.

All she could do was cry brokenly before him. She didn't notice his eyes soften a tiny bit.

He let go of her, allowing her to stand on her own and she began to sway on the spot. "Now I'm truly the _only _person who can help you," he said in a strangely grim voice. She stared up at him, tears still brimming from her eyes. He tapped at his temple. "All up here, doll."

And then she fell to her knees before him in a heap. It was partly from the light-headedness, the crying, and a little bit of a need to show him that he needn't push her any farther than he already had. She _understood! _Couldn't he just...get it all over with so she could just have her son back already? She'd do anything, anything at all.

"I'll do anything," she said, not even realizing what was coming out of her mouth, but knowing that whatever it was, it was true and she really meant it. "I'll do anything you want, just get me my son back in one piece. Please."

"You're not going to do anything at all, I know you. Now get up off my floor, it's unseemly."

He seemed to be waiting impatiently for her to follow his orders and she tried, she really did. But for some reason, her body seemed to be ignoring what her brain was telling it to do. Why wouldn't anything just _work for her _today? "I can't," she eventually said, frowning. This was a really inconvenient position to be in, honestly.

"Oh for God's sake!" he exclaimed before pulling her roughly up off the floor. Her eyes widened and she was barely able to utter a word before her world started to turn black and she began to fall back down again. "Hell – oh, what the hell, Granger?" he exclaimed once more, catching her in his arms.

"Dizzy, dizzy, stop _fucking moving me,_" she tried to say, but she wasn't sure how much of it he was able to discern from her mumbles. She was able to recall him rolling his eyes, picking her up into his arms, and carrying her to an extravagantly large bed before all went black and her feelings faded into nothingness.

/

All of the children had instinctively known that with the presence of the pretty little redheaded girl, things were going to go downhill for them. It wasn't that they didn't like the girl, of course. She was nice enough, scared like the rest of them. But the man that had brought them all here was a little bit too gleeful at having added his newest addition to his collection of captives.

It was honestly really, very scary. They all could attest to that.

So it wasn't surprise that made them scream and yell when the man dragged two of the children away upstairs – a boy and a girl – it was just plain fear. They were afraid for their friends that had been taken, but mostly they were just afraid that they'd be next.

And so they sat there and cried and screamed.

Hugo wanted to scream, he really did. Mostly he just cried. Mostly, he just listened.

Hugo firmly believed that if he listened hard enough, if he truly put his mind to it, he could possibly try to stop what was happening to them. But as it was, the children were too loud and he just couldn't concentrate very well. He was afraid, just as afraid as the rest of them were. That didn't stop him from trying futilely, though.

There were many moments spent feeling absolutely terrorized and he just couldn't help it. His mother had always told him that if you really wanted to, you could overcome your emotions and be brave. But Hugo realized that either she had been wrong, or he just wasn't a really brave human being. And since his mother was never wrong about anything, he guessed it was because he was a chicken.

But if he was a chicken, who was going to save them all? He really didn't know, and he really didn't like the idea of it.

It didn't seem as if the man was ready to kill them completely yet. The worst he had done was been a little violent, beaten them with a stick. The little blank girl said this was because he wanted to keep them fresh for the plucking when their magic was ripe to take. He didn't know if he believed her anymore.

Because they all did eventually come back from the upstairs, wherever that was. Bruised and battered, yes. But at least they were alive and there was no blood. They were all scared, but Hugo thought if they stuck together, they might have a little time. Or at least a little warmth before their time ran out.

One of the girls, one that had helped hold him down when he had first arrived, couldn't stop crying when she was brought back downstairs by the evil man. He hadn't enjoyed her crying it seemed, had wanted to get rid of her. Even after hours had passed and the man showed no signs of coming back for a long while, she kept on crying.

Hugo offered her his sweater, hoping that the warmth would make her feel a little better. He let her sleep on his legs and stroked her dirty hair like his mother used to stroke his. It eventually helped her calm down and sleep. All of the other children gathered around them, forming a tangled group of limbs. They could ward off the cold this way, at least.

They could feel a little better about being completely clueless.

However, there were three things Hugo _had_ learned, listening to the man dragging them upstairs by twos.

First, their ordeal involved pain and bruises. Pain, because he could hear them screaming. Bruises because Hugo knew the man was impatient and had a stick to use on them if they disobeyed.

Second, the man was conducting experiments. He could tell by what the other children who were dragged back told him. Experiments for what, he didn't know.

Third, Hugo knew he was next.

/

"Granger, don't tell me you're still sleeping in there!"

Hermione jolted straight up in her bed, gasping aloud.

Looking around, she realized that she _wasn't _in her bed. Not at all... This extravagant room looked nothing like her moderately humble abode. The walls looked to be made of pale silky greys and blues. The furniture was elegant, oversized, and black. That was good, she supposed. They adequately filled up the large room with high ceilings and still left the feeling of spaciousness.

Hermione knew she could never afford this kind of luxury in her life. She wasn't living in poverty, mind you. She was actually doing quite well for herself, financially speaking. But _this_, this was just something else. It was grandeur and she certainly didn't remember acquiring it.

It was old money.

In the seconds that followed, Hermione realized that she _hadn't _imagined Draco Malfoy yelling at her to wake up. She clearly wasn't imagining her surroundings so that had to mean that she was at the Malfoy manor... in one of their many rooms.

When Malfoy burst through the door to find her sitting confusedly on the bed, he just shook his head. But it really only confirmed all of her suspicions. She remembered him drag her here, to the manor...remembered him burning the documents and making her panic. And then nothing.

_What the hell?_

Had he poisoned her or something? Had he cursed her, jinxed her... knocked her out and forcibly put her to this bed? She nearly gasped and hyperventilated at the thought of Malfoy kidnapping her and forcing her to – what? Sleep?

"Look lively, Granger. It's already nine and we've got a lot of work to do." He walked through the room to a door, which he opened and walked right in. "We're already running late since your appearance clearly needs to be modified." He grumbled something to himself, but she couldn't make out the words from where she was sitting.

She wanted to move, she really did, but Hermione was still recovering from shock and her system hadn't quite rebuilt itself just yet. It was a rare moment in time – Hermione Weasley all undone. It didn't happen in many instances. Not when she had been petrified, not when Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured her, and not when her husband had died.

A stranger had stolen her life away from her and now she was becoming undone in the bed of Draco Malfoy – the ferret who wanted to make her life miserable and/or wanted to help her? She was confused and a bit...of...a...mess...

"Hey woman, are you deaf?" Malfoy had emerged from the door that he had gone through, which appeared to be a closet. His trousers were undone, and he was shirtless, a fresh shirt thrown over his shoulder.

He looked sinful. She waited for the uncomfortable feelings of guilt and shame plague her for sitting/sleeping in Malfoy's bed – but they never came. It was only a lost, empty, nauseating fear that filled her belly. The same that had consumed her since Hugo had gone missing. Could it really only have been a few hours?

"You don't look so good." She jumped at the sound of his voice. She hadn't noticed that he had come to stand next to her. For some reason, the slight worried expression on his face just didn't sit right. "What's wrong? Still feeling dizzy?"

She frowned, trying to ascertain if she actually _was _dizzy. She began to vaguely remember collapsing in Malfoy's office and her cheeks began to redden. No, she decided, she was definitely not all that dizzy anymore. How awkward.

"I checked for the usual things before I let you sleep after you fainted. It all turned out normal." He casually took a seat next to her and pressed his hand to her forehead. "Doesn't look like a fever, but... can't be too safe," he muttered, almost to himself. She sat absolutely still as he began brandishing his wand over her, running several diagnostic spells.

It was bloody strange to see Malfoy act this way.

She was sure she was going to die of shock. Where were the insults or cruel exclamations? Why wasn't he making her life as difficult as possible? They were treading dangerously difficult territory here, but he seemed deceptively comfortable with it all.

She was in his bed after all...

"I'm fine, Malfoy, thanks," she finally said when the last diagnostic spell declared her fine. "Just, um... stressed and a little tired."

He paused as if determining the validity of her words. She wondered why he even cared how she was feeling, whether or not she was going to pass out or not. But then again, she was his client now, and she supposed that actually meant something to him. In the end, all he did was shrug, get up, and continued dressing himself as if her presence didn't even matter. Was he honestly _that _comfortable with his body?

_He has no reason not to be comfortable, idiot. He's gorgeous. _

Before she could admonish herself any further, he spoke up. "Then you ought to get up and start getting ready, Granger. We're going to have a wild night."

Judging the way that his muscles bulged deliciously in his shirt, she had no doubt that they would.

/

It had been _hours, _literally hours since they had left the manor and come here to this distastefully... horrendous club.

Hermione didn't know what was worse. The fact that Malfoy had forced her to get all dressed up to come to a place like this or that he actually believed that this was helping them. How the fuck was this useful at _all? _She didn't need to relax and party, she needed to bloody find her son! And this wasn't helping, not in the least bit. She was angry, but there was nothing she could do about it.

At least the Aurors had the green light to continue their investigation (courtesy of Malfoy no doubt now that she had crumbled in front of him) and she looked nothing like herself.

She blushed as she remembered him transfiguring her to something a little more "appropriate", as he'd put it.

It didn't matter in the end. She was trapped in this stifling room with shady characters and flashing lights until he decided that he was ready to leave. Judging by the way he was throwing his head back and laughing at the other end of the room, _fucking drinking, _that wasn't going to be any time soon. The music pounded in her ears and she felt like she'd be deaf before the night was over.

She glared at him, but he didn't notice. He was too busy getting drunk with a skank clinging to his arm. She wondered if this was his own personal way of torturing her. He had told her to blend in before he had gone to mingle with the freaking rats that roamed this place. What was she supposed to bloody do? Watch him fuck the almost naked girl that was now halfway into his lap and clearly high out of her mind?

Hermione did not think so. She was well beyond this sort of nonsense.

"And what did Malfoy do to make a beautiful girl like you so put out?" The oily voice and questionable hot breath that fanned her ear were attached to man that looked quite...dirty, if she were to be honest. He put his arm around her and gripped tightly at her waist. She felt disgusted as he pressed himself against her, swaying them with the music.

It took all of her energy and a well placed high heel to his foot to make him let go of her and he practically glared venom at her. She was afraid.

"Don't be like that, sugar," the man whispered disgustingly to her. Hermione noticed that his teeth were yellowing. "We all can have a good time tonight."

Before Hermione could even think to reach for her wand, he had clasped both her wrists in his hands and by then it was too late. There was nothing she could have done. No one was paying attention to them (this seemed to be a regular kind of occurrence around here) and the music was so loud that even if she screamed, no one would hear her. It was too dark for anyone to pay attention, anyhow.

So she was stuck.

That didn't stop her from trying to escape and screaming when his slimy tongue licked at her neck. Even a well placed knee to the groin seemed to hurt her more than it hurt him. The tears that streamed down her face only seemed to excite him more, rather than repulse him. And all she could do was wish for a miracle, anything that would just help her escape. _A knight in shining armour._

And then suddenly, just as she was about to give up, the man was pulled roughly off of her and she heard a loud crack and a howl escape his lips, even over the blaring music. She looked up to find Malfoy's slightly hazy eyes staring down at her disoriented ones.

_He got me away from the fucker... _

She felt Malfoy drape his robe over her, but she couldn't look at the blond to thank him. She was too occupied at staring daggers at the person who had attempted to molest her. He lay grovelling on the floor, clutching his arm in pain and it pleased Hermione to no end.

So she went over and kicked the bastard in the arm and was about to do it again before Malfoy roughly grabbed her and took her out of the dark, smoky room. When she turned around to yell at him for disturbing her vengeance, she found him grinning at her.

"What?" she asked angrily.

"That was fucking brilliant, Granger!" he exclaimed.

"Why'd you bloody stop me then? Let me go back and crush his goddamn bollocks-"

"You were attracting too much attention, unfortunately," he cut her off, staring at her appreciatively. She suddenly realized if he hadn't come to save her when he did, she'd have been worse than dead and a shiver ran through her even though his coat was more than adequately warm. "Besides, we got what we needed."

"A couple of drinks and a sleazebag?" she blurted out without even thinking. When he raised a brow at her uncharacteristic remark, she blushed. The stress and damned craziness of the situation was finally getting to her, she supposed.

"Yes and a lead of where I can start looking for your son in a couple of hours."

A warm feeling spread through her and she managed to relax a little. He was going to look for her son. They'd had a purpose by coming here, after all. He _hadn't _just been messing with her head! And all of a sudden, she really didn't mind that he'd been drinking and letting questionable women come into the equation, so long as he got the job done. Because in the end, that's all that really mattered.

She hoped he would be able to get Hugo away in time. 


	9. I know

**Chapter Nine: I Know**

Blaise Zabini was many things but no one could criticize him for being disloyal.

Yes, he was an alcoholic, a bit of a drug addict, and more than a bit of a sleazebag. Yes, he'd be the first to admit that he had some serious issues with being productive – he hadn't worked a single day of his luxurious life thanks to his mother and her questionable fortune. He was a lazy motherfucker that really only wanted to spend the rest of his life partying with questionable people. It was all true. Blaise didn't have many obligations or people to please. He was rich, after all.

But Blaise was loyal. If there was a redeeming quality about him (and there were not many of those floating around) it was that he was loyal. It was an odd attribute to have had, especially considering that he was an ex-Slytherin and all. But it couldn't be helped. It was what it was.

More precisely, Draco had asked Blaise for a favour, and since Draco was practically his brother in all but blood, Blaise was going to do it no matter what it was or how long it took. Draco was the only constant thing in his Blaise's life. Draco took care of him when no one else would, listened to him ramble, clean up his questionable messes after a crazy night without batting an eye, without criticizing his very existence...

For that Blaise was grateful.

For him, Blaise would do anything. That kind of loyalty ran blood deep.

So when Draco asked Blaise to investigate missing children and magical signatures that didn't register, Blaise had agreed. It didn't matter that he had done so reluctantly. It had been a weird request and Blaise honestly had better things to do. Nott was throwing a party that night and it had been rumoured that it was going to be the wildest thing since last year's Christmas bash. It physically pained Blaise to consciously skip it.

But he had, because Draco needed his help and that didn't happen very often. So Blaise had to do it. There was no way around it.

That didn't mean he wasn't fucking resentful, though.

The thought was present in his mind as he made his way down a dark, filthy alley somewhere in the deepest reaches of Knockturn Alley, shivering his arse off. He knew this had to be important to Draco if he had asked Blaise to come to _this _kind of place at this time of night.

But damn, he didn't want to be here. He was starting to feel the beginnings of the ever present tremors in his hands. He needed another snort of his stash. Why hadn't he thought to bring his stash with him, anyhow? Being high helped him concentrate, it honestly did.

But that couldn't be helped now.

He had asked around – _discretely, of course - _about missing children and magical signatures. All of the circles and people he had quietly approached had taken his galleons, shared his drinks and drugs, and pointed him to this place. Of course, they had been just as surprised as he had been at the strange questions. But if there was anything to be found, they'd said, it was to be here. In this disgustingly filthy alley.

He quietly moved down the alley and to a hidden door at the very end. If he hadn't been looking for it, Blaise hardly thought he'd ever find it under normal circumstances. Well, under normal circumstances, Blaise doubted he'd ever set one expensive designer clad foot in this dump. But that was just that. And he had been told that there would be a door here.

There were several strong concealing charms hiding the door from view and Blaise didn't dare tamper with any of them. There were wards upon wards, layers upon layers of magic – some of which Blaise didn't even recognize. And something else. Something that screamed of dark beings and inherent evil. Blaise didn't know what it was and he sure as hell wasn't about to find out. It didn't sit well with him.

So he would have to try to find another way in. That was also fine.

He wondered what kind of psychos stole kids and hid them in dumps like this. If they were _that _depraved, did Blaise really want to be here and rescue the little children? No, he really didn't. He had no doubt that a person or people like that would kill him if given the chance, and he wasn't all that keen on dying.

But Draco had said that all he'd have to do is snoop around a little bit. Tell him what he'd found. Blaise had found a bloody weird arse door and that was all. Draco sure as hell wasn't expecting him to take any risks. This was as far as loyalty was going to get him.

Blaise passed his wand over the mysterious door, scanning for the spells that were placed on it so that the Aurors could later figure that shit out. He waved his wand whispering a quick "_expecto patronum" _and sent his results off to Draco.

He wasn't _completely_ inexperienced, he thought with a smirk. He _had _done this before.

Just as he was about to leave, the door burst open and it was all he could do to quietly throw himself behind a pile of conveniently placed garbage. He didn't dare even breathe lest his location be given away. Silently thanking Merlin for his preservation instincts, he lay there silently, observing his surroundings through the garbage that covered him.

Two men had exited the door he had been surveying.

One was short and stocky whilst the other was tall, but equally large. They both seemed to be absolutely filthy, as if it hadn't occurred to them to shower or invest time in personal hygiene. Blaise could swear that their stench reached his nostrils, even from the distance between him and the pair and the pile of garbage around him. They both had long, dirty, lanky hair and yellowed eyes and nails. They both had six fingers.

Blaise wondered if they were some kind of freaks of nature. It was honestly a disturbing sight to see. They were whispering to each other – not quietly enough so that he couldn't hear but just enough so that he'd have to strain to make out what they were saying.

"_-isn't it enough?" _the tall one was saying. "_We've got eight. Don't know what he's waiting for." _

The short one didn't seem to be happy with the tall one and whatever it was that he was saying. "_We're not to question it." _The man had an oddly high pitched voice, it was almost feminine. If Blaise didn't know better (and he did, because the man had a fully fledged beard), he'd have assumed the midget was a girl. "_We do what we're told and we're meant to go look for new prospects just in case something goes wrong like last time. This is why you're not allowed at the meetings, you know. You ask too many questions and don't carry out orders." _

So this was news. Draco could benefit from this, he was sure. It appeared these freaky twins were part of a larger operation. Of what, he didn't know. Kidnapping unsuspecting children? That would explain the prospects part. He took to memorizing the two men's faces, their appearance, and any details that could be beneficial towards catching them later.

He honestly didn't care if they got away, so long as he was able to walk out of here alive. They could leave, he wasn't about to stop them and drag them towards the Aurors. That was the Ministry's job, not his. He wasn't going to risk his neck for a bunch of stupid children. He'd done his job – gotten information.

A third man exited the doorway, which had been left open behind the two freaks. He somehow seemed a little more composed, a little more clean, and more suave than the others. He managed to look like an actual _human, _even though he was dragging a black body bag behind him that was leaking blood. Even though he also had six fingers on his right hand. It was unsettling and Blaise just wanted it all to be over at that point.

"What have I told you about keeping this door _shut?" _the third man said loudly, dropping his bag with a thud on the floor. "The incantations don't work if the door is left open, you imbeciles!"

So he was the mastermind behind this entire operation, whatever the operation may be. He watched as the man shut the door and checked over the wards and spells placed on it. Blaise took to memorizing the man's features. He figured if anything, this was the most important information he could walk away with tonight. Draco would be _so proud _of him when he'd walk in with this! Blaise couldn't stop the smile from forming on his face.

Draco was never all that proud of him, even though he'd never admit it.

He shook his head slightly to empty his head of the direction his thoughts had been taking him and instead focused on the scene in front of him. It seemed as if the third man had finished chastising the other freaks and the large one was carrying the dripping bag over his shoulder, not caring that the blood was dripping onto his already filthy robes.

They were leaving silently and Blaise was glad he had escaped this unharmed. A light feeling of giddiness swept through him as he lay there elated for another three minutes, just as Draco had taught him. He waited until he was sure that he could hear no more footsteps and that the freaks really were gone. Then he got up, brushed his robes, and attempted to apparate.

Only, he couldn't.

When he had attempted to turn and apparate home, as per usual, he froze. Unable to move his arms, legs, or any muscle in his body. It was as if an invisible force had held him in his spot – one foot twisted, his head half turned, unbalanced, unstable, and panicking the fuck out.

_How the hell could he have forgotten the about the anti-apparation wards?_

Blaise knew he was done for when he heard a pair of footsteps running towards the spot he was trapped. There was nothing he could do now. He was caught. Even if he tried to somehow free himself of his predicament, someone had found him and would take away his wand before he had the chance to hide himself. He had never been good at wandless magic, anyways. He was doomed.

It was the short stocky one that had come back to check on the hideout. He looked completely stunned that Blaise was there in the first place, as if he hadn't actually expected there to be anyone there. Blaise wished the man would just undo the wards binding him to his place so that he could just make a run for it, but the chances of that happening were next to nothing.

"Hey boss!" the man suddenly shouted. So Blaise had been right, the cleaner man _was _the boss. "We've got a situation here!"

Eventually, the man who was the boss came back. He wasn't as surprised to find Blaise trapped in the wards that he had no doubt created. The man snapped his fingers and Blaise immediately lost his balance and fell to the floor. But before he could do anything to save himself, he was up against the wall, bound with ropes. At the very least he could move...

"Who the hell are you?"

It only took Blaise a second to come up with a fake name. It was the name he always used in these kinds of sticky situations. "Brightley. Connor Brightley."

"No you're not, you're Blaise Zabini. I saw you in the papers," the big one said. _Well, fuck, why didn't I think of transfiguring myself? _

So that route was completely out of the window. He'd just have to play it smart from here, then.

"What are you doing in my alley, Mr. Zabini?" the man said, suddenly ten times more polite.

"You're Gunther, right?" Blaise asked. The man looked slightly confused at the question. Of course he wasn't Gunther – that was obvious. "Tony said that I could find Gunther here to deal me something new. Though I told Tony, what could be better than a sniff of some blow? He said you'd hook me up with the newest shit there was-"

"_Silencio." _And Blaise could speak no more. He suddenly found himself thrown to the floor and it was strange because he hadn't seen the man wave his wand once. How was he doing this all? "We both know that story is complete bullshit, Mr. Zabini," the man said with such authority that Blaise was almost ashamed for trying to trick him. "And now that we've established that you were here to _spy on me_, I'm going to have to dispose of you."

His eyes widened and he suddenly couldn't breathe. He wasn't ready to die, he didn't want to die. Why had he come here in the first place? He had so many things in his life that he had yet to do, so many people to see, so many things left unsaid to the people that needed to hear them...

He didn't want this to be the last moment he'd ever live, lying in a dirty alleyway in Knockturn alley. But that was clearly out of his grasp now.

The man raised his hands in a bored fashion and Blaise felt a searing pain in his abdomen. Staring down he found several lines of blood beginning to form through his shirt. That shit hurt like a motherfucker! But all Blaise could think of was that he'd failed the one thing that Draco had expected him to do and now Draco was going to have to go against these psychos that were clearly murderers. Blaise wished he hadn't been so stupid. He wished he had thought to say goodbye to his friends before he'd left.

But he hadn't and there was nothing he could do about that now.

He hadn't expected that dying would be so fucking painful. Of course, many had told him, and he'd seen the torture for himself during the war, but somehow he'd thought he'd escaped all that. But as the burning pain reached an all time high in his chest, his eyes closed, and he knew he wouldn't be waking up again.

They watched until he stopped breathing and there was no more blood left to drain from his body. Then, they all walked away as if this was a common day occurrence and nothing more. Perhaps it was unusual that there was no remorse for the dead body that now lay in its own blood and filth from the dirty alleyway. But perhaps this was the way life just _was_.

Unquestionable, unequal, and sad.

Life and death had a strange way of behaving as such and if Blaise Zabini could just open his eyes, he'd have attested to it as well.

/

When Blaise didn't wander into Draco's office as expected that morning, Draco wasn't all that worried or surprised. He was used to Blaise being late or unpredictably absent to meetings and events he was supposed to be at. What was the worst that could've happened? He was probably high and/or drunk, sleeping off the after effects of a long night, probably with a girl clinging to him.

And Draco honestly didn't mind, so long as Blaise eventually got back to him in a reasonable amount of time.

So, Draco went about his work day, which was stressful and filled with nonsense that he really could've done without in finding the Weasley boy. He followed the lead that he and Granger had gotten from the club the other night, and it had turned up empty. It was well past lunchtime when Draco even remembered he was supposed to meet Blaise.

But when he apparated back to his office, he realized that Blaise hadn't been there. He hadn't been anywhere.

Yet, it was still no cause to worry. Blaise was like that and it was expected behaviour from the nitwit. Draco had just hoped that the bastard would've taken this particular request a little more seriously because it _was _urgent information. Sure, the Patronus was a good start – but he needed to speak with the dumbarse before drugs could impair his memory.

All Draco could do was sigh and go on what little clues he had. Blaise, while resourceful enough, was damned silly. Sure, he had sent Draco a scan of what appeared to be a door – but where the fuck was that door and how was Draco supposed to find it if Blaise didn't tell him where it was?

_The idiot. _

He couldn't find it in him to be mad, though. Blaise was almost like a child in that regard and Draco took care of him like he was family. Hell, Blaise was family. Draco had no one else besides him and his Scorpius.

So it was natural that he was a little disbelieving when two Aurors made it to his doorway to tell him that Blaise had been found dead in the Thames. His body had been severely injured, cut up and drained of blood, thrown in the water to be washed away. Draco didn't understand how that was possible.

Draco didn't want to believe this bullshit.

But when the Aurors took him to identify the body for himself, he couldn't help but throw a fit. How could they, how could _anyone_ hurt someone so... _defenceless? _Blaise hadn't been doing anything to hurt anyone. Had he? He never had hurt anyone, not even during a fucking war! And it was all Draco's fault for sending him into a hell hole.

It was Draco's fault that he was dead on an examination table.

Draco had no idea how he managed to make it all the way to the Manor before he threw up violently. Somehow he had managed to get into his washroom and to a toilet before his stomach emptied its meagre contents. Draco had seen violence, bloodshed, and monstrous things all throughout his life. He'd seen people get killed and tortured. He'd even been the one to do it in some cases. And never once had he had a physical reaction like this.

He'd never been so weak.

But then again, he'd never lost someone like that either.

"Malfoy – Jesus, what's wrong?" Before he could even comprehend what was going on, he felt a pair of cool hands on his forehead. He couldn't help but groan and lean back into the pair of arms that were suddenly around him, supporting his weight. "Are you sick? Should I call a medi-wizard?"

He didn't respond. Instead, he bent over and threw up again, a vision of Blaise spread over the examination table literally _cut into pieces _and put back together again. What kind of people did that? Granted, he'd seen worse. He'd seen people maimed to the extent that they were unrecognizable. At least that hadn't happened to Blaise. But...but...

It was all his fault.

_All of it. _

He couldn't help the groan that left his lips at that thought. He didn't want to live with such a heavy burden on his chest. Suddenly, a glass of water was present in his line of vision and he gratefully accepted, swirling the cold substance in his mouth before spitting out the vulgar taste. A cool hand was pressed to the back of his neck. It felt good. It was more than he deserved.

Blaise had been everything to him, right after his son. Blaise had been there for him. In sixth year, when he'd had no one to rely on, he'd had Blaise to silently coach him through the misery. The man had been fucking optimistic about everything in life. When Draco thought he was definitely done for the year that he'd had to live with the Dark Lord literally watching him sleep – it had been Blaise who had encouraged him not to end his own life to escape the uncertainty, the agony.

And when Draco had asked him to go investigate this thing for Granger, he had readily agreed. If Draco had only known, if he'd just _thought about it _for a second, he'd have never asked something like that of him. Something that was beyond his friend's abilities. He should've done it himself. Should've just dealt with Granger's case on his own. Should've –

_Granger! _

None of this wouldn't be happening if it wasn't for stupid _Granger! _He swallowed thickly, wondering why the fuck he even bothered with her, why he wanted to be the one on her case, why he had practically forced her to stay in his house. He hated her guts. Hated the fact that she was the reason he'd delegated the tasks out to his only friend because her case was supposedly _urgent. _

He suddenly realized that she was the one gently stroking his hair as he threw up again.

"Get the fuck off me!" he growled after his stomach had stopped heaving. She scrambled away as if in shock. _Good. _"Get out."

She didn't move. "What's wrong? Did...did something happen? Are you sick?"

"I said get out!" he shouted again. If she didn't move, if she didn't get out of his sight at that moment, he didn't know what he'd do. He'd rip her fucking head of, he'd smash her skull in, he was going to choke that little neck of hers, he'd kill her. He wanted to kill her, he was going to kill her. _Go, Granger, get the fuck out of here. _

But she still didn't move. Instead, the stupid bint inched closer to him, as if _tempting _him to hurt her. Didn't she know what was good for her? Didn't she know anything? "Malfoy, just tell me, tell me what happened and if I can help-"

When she reached out and placed her hand on his leg, he snapped. He advanced forward, grasped her wrists, and pinned them against the washroom wall above his head. "You want to know what the fuck happened, Granger?" he asked, his tone menacing. "Blaise Zabini was _killed _last night all because of you. This is all your fucking fault, Granger!"

"My fault?" she asked, confused. It seemed she didn't even mind that he'd pinned her just as long as he was answering her questions honestly. It irked him to no end. Did she have no sense of self preservation? Was she honestly trusting a Slytherin? "What did I do?"

"It's all because of you!" he growled. It pissed him off that she didn't even flinch. "He wouldn't have been there if you hadn't made me help!"

"I didn't make you help, Malfoy-" she started calmly.

"Yes you fucking did! If you'd watched over your son like a mother is _supposed _to, Blaise would never have been there! He wouldn't have been cut up into fucking pieces and thrown in the Thames! Fucking Granger, can't do anything right can you?"

When he'd finished yelling, his chest nearly heaving from the effort it had taken, he realized that he'd made her cry. Even though he hated her at that moment, hated everything she'd ever done and stood for, it didn't sit right to have made her cry. He let go of her wrists and her arms slid down the wall, falling limply to her sides, but she didn't bother moving. She didn't even push him away and he didn't move either. They were both too tired and broken to care that enemies weren't supposed to lean against each other like this.

"Why are you doing this to me?" he finally asked her when she'd finished silently sobbing.

"I didn't ask for this," she whispered quietly. "I didn't ask to be here with you. I didn't want Blaise to get killed. I just want my son back." He didn't question her, didn't say anything. He didn't doubt that that's all she wanted. He just wished he didn't have to lose so much to win a bet she wasn't even aware of.

What was he trying to prove by doing this, anyways? Why was it such a big deal that _he _be the one to solve the case? He didn't know. He didn't even care anymore. It just had to be done. There was no one else and Granger was helpless. Granger was _never _helpless. Not even when she'd been petrified, not during the Quidditch world cup when the Death Eaters had been marching, not when his aunt had tortured her on his drawing room floor.

Perhaps that was why he needed to make this right. He needed her to be that unbreakable wall again so he could make fun of her for another seven years. Maybe it was because he knew exactly what it was like to lose a son. Maybe he just missed how life used to be back at Hogwarts before everything had fallen to shit and made his life complicated. Or maybe it was the fact that Granger had never bowed down to anyone before and everyone bowed to him.

It didn't matter. He was going to see it through to the end and there was nothing that was going to stop him.

"I'm going to find your son, Granger," he said tiredly.

She sighed, wiped the tears off of her cheeks, and leaned back. "I know."

She didn't say anything when he tiredly laid his head in her lap. Didn't say anything when he'd fallen asleep. Didn't say anything even after he had woken up thirty minutes later and freshened up. But when he lent her a hand to get up off the washroom floor and told her to eat, she didn't question him. When he'd told her he was leaving and wouldn't be back for some time, she simply nodded.

"I'm going to find your son, Granger," was his final goodbye.

She had smiled sadly and she leaned against his bedroom door, watching him leave. "I know," she had whispered, long after he had gone. 


	10. Bomb Yourself

**Chapter Ten: Bomb Yourself**

When the door to the bedroom Hermione was occupying burst open, which just happened to be Malfoy's room incidentally, Hermione knew it couldn't be good news.

But when Draco Malfoy hurriedly started undressing next to her, frantically as if his life depended on it, Hermione knew something was terribly off. Because why would the man that hated her so deeply, the very same man that had yelled at her for being a bad mother just a few hours ago, undress in the dark next to her? Granted it was his bed, and he must've been tired after the day he no doubt had had... but... it just was too confusing to comprehend.

What _really _threw her was when he stared at her, not pausing practically ripping his clothes off, and told _her _to undress too. When she didn't move, he began to do it for her. It was then that she had the sense to scream, but was not surprised when his hand clamped down over her mouth.

So she was going to be raped by Draco Malfoy. Plain and simple. What had she been expecting, that he'd kept her in his house from the kindness of his heart? That he wanted to make sure that she be aware of any news he'd found about her son?

_The man looking for my son is about to take advantage of me. Is this some kind of sick way of payment? _

Well, she wasn't going to pay it. She began to struggle and a look of panic began to spread over his features. When he straddled her, blocking all of her movements, she bit down on the hand covering her mouth until he bled. He hissed but didn't let her go.

"Listen, Granger," he whispered hurriedly, his lips close to her ear. She shivered from his proximity. "There are people trying to kill me. We have to pretend, alright? Just pretend. I'm not going to fucking force myself on you. We just need to make it convincing."

She stopped her struggling. Of _course _he wasn't trying to rape her. He didn't even find her sexually attractive, thank God! He was just using her as, what? A cover? It made sense. If he was here having sex with her, he couldn't be somewhere else doing whatever it was that he had been caught doing, no doubt.

This would be his alibi.

She almost shrugged to herself. If this was what he needed to help him find Hugo...

"No time to think, Granger. The wards just told me they're here," he hissed into her ear. "Please, please, make this convincing or we're both dead!"

She just nodded and barely had the time to say okay before he pulled the shirt she had worn to bed off and thrown it off to some far corner in the room. Thankfully, she had thought to wear a bra to bed that night and he didn't make to remove it. No, instead, he gripped her hips after pulling the blankets up just enough so that whoever it was watching them fake sex couldn't tell that they were both wearing underwear.

Then, he began thrusting against her.

And it was goddamn hot.

It wasn't that the idea of Malfoy thrusting against her was _all _that appealing... Well, granted, he was attractive, good looking, and practically willing to be her saviour. It was more of the fact that she hadn't had sex in a very long time. It had been years since Ron's death, but she'd been far too busy trying to keep her family afloat to pay attention to something as unimportant as sex.

So when she felt Malfoy pressing against her and panting in a very convincing way, the half strangled moan that escaped her lips was only _half _faked. In fact, it sounded quite convincing to her own ears. It made her blush like no tomorrow. But she supposed that too was a good thing. It meant that whoever it was watching could see that she was affected and all _hot. _Even if it was for reasons other than sex.

"When I kiss your neck, moan my name," Malfoy barely whispered to her before pressing his hot lips against every inch of her neck.

The thing was, even if he _hadn't _asked her to do it, she probably would've anyways and later blamed it on acting convincing. It felt so damn good that she didn't even question the urge to groan like a banshee. She couldn't stop the pants and the heated moans. Couldn't stop from loudly exclaiming, "_Malfoy... _Gods, Draco, right there!"

Well alright, she'd exaggerated a bit.

His chuckle was a little louder than he needed it to be as was what came out of his mouth next, "You like that, baby?"

She couldn't believe her ears. He sounded damn _hot, _sounded cheeky, sounded just as arrogant as he always was but this time she actually liked it! There was no time to process that thought either, because his lips were at her ears again, whispering but barely audible.

"You have to kiss me, Granger. We have to sell this-"

She'd grabbed his head and kissed him madly before he'd even finished whispering. She felt him moan deep in his throat and guessed that was what was meant to be the grand epic finale because he'd stopped thrusting against her. She almost regretted that he'd chosen to end there, almost missed feeling him rubbing against her just so. But she convinced herself in a split second it was only because she'd gone so long without it. With anyone. Not with him.

_Fuck, _even her thoughts were jumbled!

But apparently, his were too. His lips were still pressed against hers and his body was still crushed against hers like glue. She didn't mind it so much, didn't mind it at all, actually. But she wondered, nonetheless, what was going on in that pretty blond head of his. No sooner than she'd thought it, he sighed and rolled over next to her, making sure to cover her with the blankets so that whoever it was couldn't see that she wasn't actually naked.

But instead of rolling away, he pressed himself against her side, pulling her form against his and tucking his head against her neck.

When he spoke, his voice was definitely louder than it needed it to be. She assumed whoever it was that was watching was still there. "Damn, Granger," he said, trailing kisses down her neck. "Who knew you were such an animal in bed? I could just ravish you _over _and _over _and _over _again." And then he nipped her earlobe. She couldn't help the shiver that passed through her at that.

"What, the last three times weren't enough for you? I'm tired, you bastard! Doesn't it ever go down?" He looked at her incredulously for a split second before bursting out into thunderous laughter. Eventually she couldn't resist and joined him.

"Alright. I'll have to settle," he eventually said, pretending to pout. "But tomorrow night, let's aim for four." She rolled her eyes, didn't even have to pretend.

"You're such a pig!" she exclaimed.

"A very hot pig you'd just love to-" Even she heard the distinct pop from just outside the doorway. Malfoy shot up from the bed and bounded through the door. He was back in seconds, though. It was obvious whoever it was had gotten away. "Great. Mission accomplished," he muttered almost to himself. He sat himself down on the edge of the bed and began slowly dressing, putting one leg at a time into his pant legs. It took him literally five minutes.

She realized he must've been exhausted.

"Care to tell me what's going on?" she asked.

He looked up at her as if just realizing that she was there. "Sorry," he muttered. "It was necessary, I hope you understand-"

"I'll understand better once you tell me what happened tonight," she cut him off, staring at him calmly in the eye. They stared at each other as if in challenge for a few minutes, but she wasn't giving up. He dropped his gaze first and she knew he was going to be stubborn on this issue. "You can't just barge in here, pretend to have sex with me, and not explain!" she nearly shrieked. But all he did was role his eyes and remain stubbornly silent. "Malfoy!" she insisted.

"Granger!" he mimicked.

She narrowed her eyes but he just stared blankly at her. She didn't understand what the big fucking deal was. It wasn't as if she was about to go out shouting to the Wizarding world that Draco Malfoy had pretended to have sex with her so that he could have an alibi for some illegal thing or another. Who the hell did he think she was? He must have realized he was being absurd too, because he just sighed, rolled his eyes, and glared at her.

She just waited him out.

"Fine, Granger. I was somewhere where I wasn't supposed to be tonight, trying to look for another lead on _your _son. Whatever Blaise had found before he died was monumental apparently, because no fucking soul is talking. They're scared." He paused a moment for breath and she could tell talking about Blaise was a pain for him. "So I got caught snooping. I needed a cover. That's all. I'm sorry I practically molested you."

She shrugged. "That's fine."

"That's mighty generous of you," he snorted.

"How did they manage to get in here, anyways? Your wards are impeccable. I checked them myself..." He raised a brow as if she'd actually dared check on his wards. She had the decency to blush. It was a fair question, though, and her actions _should _be excused. He had made her stay in his home, so she should be allowed to do stuff like that!

"I left them down, obviously, so they could get in and witness our little show."

"Well, that explains a lot." He shrugged and she couldn't help but shrug back. It made him shake his head. "Won't they be curious if they come back? When they see all the wards..."

He looked at her as if she were stupid but didn't want to be rude about it. So instead, he spoke really, really slowly, as if she were five and he was teaching her to tie her shoe laces properly. "When a person finds an intruder in their house they generally...get...protection..."

She blushed even redder if that was possible. "Right, Malfoy."

"Listen, Granger," he eventually said after a moment of very awkward silence, "I'm sorry about earlier."

She considered his apology, ascertaining if he actually meant it or not. Then she realized it wouldn't matter if he'd meant it or not anyways, because he was _Malfoy_, and Malfoy's never apologized. She ought not to look a free gift in the mouth. "That's alright."

"I'm sorry about now, too. Should've sent a warning or something..." He seemed highly uncomfortable with what they'd done.

In retrospect, she didn't know why she wasn't feeling _more _uncomfortable. Then again, what was the big deal? When one's life is on the line, you do what you got to do and forget about it later. She'd done many things during the war that she'd rather not have, but circumstances called for drastic measures and she'd done what she had had to do. There was no point dwelling on it.

So that was what she was going to do.

"Yeah. Forget about it. Hope we were convincing enough, though."

The small wistful smile on his face perplexed her. "That we were, Granger, that we were."

/

Hugo startled awake, not knowing for a second what was going on around him. The children were whispering to each other and that was a strange event in itself. Hugo didn't know why they were doing something so bold (bold for them, anyways, they _never _took the risk of whispering at all), but perhaps there was something that Hugo was missing.

"What's going on?" he eventually whispered when he could make no sense of what they were saying.

They all startled and stilled at the same time. He supposed he was sorry to have scared them like that. Living in these kinds of conditions had caused them all to be scared silly and shocked at every little thing. Hugo didn't blame them. If he had been the one awake and talking, he would've been shocked too. So he let them slow down their pounding hearts and catch their breath again before answering his question.

Eventually, one dirty little girl answered in a hushed whisper. He had to lean closer to the sound of her voice to make out what she was saying. "The man left us triple the amount of food earlier, when you were still asleep." The girl gestured near the door and Hugo could make out three buckets of the porridge like substance they were always forced to eat. Then the girl pointed to the blank girl. "She said we shouldn't touch it."

"Why?" Hugo automatically asked.

His voice had come out a little louder than he had intended and all the children flinched. Except for the blank girl, who seemed to be blissfully asleep. How she could sleep so peacefully, Hugo did not know. The rest of the children stared up at the ceiling as if to determine if the man had heard Hugo and if he was coming downstairs to investigate.

But nothing happened and after a while the children found it in themselves to calm down. "She said that he's feeding us so we can be strong enough later. So that...so that he can take our magic."

Hugo frowned. He didn't know what was going on still, or why the blank girl thought that they were there so that their magic could be taken away. Earlier, when Hugo had been taken upstairs with the blank girl, nothing had happened.

The man hadn't hit either of them, hadn't asked any questions, hadn't done anything at all. Hugo and the girl had simply stood there before him as he had muttered some words that Hugo didn't recognize. When the girl had held Hugo's hand, perhaps in fear, the man had tried to hit them with his stick – but nothing had happened. In fact, his stick had shattered into hundreds of splintery pieces.

They had hit the man everywhere but not Hugo and the little girl.

Hugo had been scared out of his mind. He hadn't known what to think, what to look at. Everything had been a threat. He knew the man was going to kill him for some reason, knew that him and the little girl were going to be killed. But he didn't know why his mind was telling him that. It wasn't because of _him _or the little girl that the stick had exploded!

But the man was crazy, after all, crazy enough to trap them here. Why wouldn't he be crazy enough to kill them over something that wasn't even their fault?

But Hugo needn't have worried. The little girl hadn't seemed affected at all by the entire experience and Hugo didn't know why. But the girl had always been a little bit strange, touched in the head even! She didn't know what was good for her, but that didn't mean that Hugo needed to be that way too. He was afraid for his life, afraid that this was the end. All because of a stupid little stick.

In the end, nothing had happened. The man hadn't seemed angry at all. In fact, he seemed absolutely gleeful. Even more gleeful than the time he had brought the eighth girl down into their dungeon space. And it was a frightening experience.

He had shoved them back into their little space and hadn't come back for a very long time. They hadn't seen him since then and the other children seemed happy about it.

But Hugo wasn't happy about it. No, Hugo was scared. If the blank little girl was right and the man had been conducting experiments on them (but honestly, what kind of experiment was that? Hugo didn't understand. What was the point of having a stick explode in front of them?) then if he wasn't here, his experiment had gone well. And if it had gone well, then he was ready to try and take their magic away from them, if that's what he wanted at all.

And then, he'd kill them one by one.

Hugo wasn't ready to die. He wasn't even eleven yet! He wanted to see his mum and make friends and go to Hogwarts. He wanted to go home and let Manny yell at him. He just didn't want to be here anymore. He wanted to just sit down and cry until someone would come save him.

But Hugo knew that that wasn't going to happen. No one knew where he was and it would take them time to come save him. Hugo knew they didn't have all that much time anymore. They were basically on the edge now and there was no stopping the man from getting what he wanted.

The only thing they could do was escape.

So that's what Hugo started planning. He got up and began to push at the walls, tried to find any lose rock or floorboard, tried to see if he could climb up to the ceiling. It was too quiet, too empty – as if the man wasn't even there to supervise them. It was a bad sign, Hugo knew.

But for the rest of that day, Hugo and the rest of the children tried to find a way out.

/

The next day when he barged in on her, it seemed to Hermione that he'd made sure he was in the kitchen and it was daytime. She guessed he still felt extremely awkward about what they'd done just hours before and she could understand why, too. She was Hermione Weasley and he was Draco Malfoy. He probably felt all sullied because he'd been forced to get all fake intimate with a mudblood.

She didn't know what was bothering him more, the fact that he had touched dirty blood or the fact that there were people out there who thought he was getting intimate with dirty blood on a daily basis. She wondered what they'd think about her.

It wasn't a pretty picture that popped up into her mind.

So naturally, she did the only thing that she could do in such a situation. She blocked it from her mind to make space for other uncomfortable situations to take its place. This all could be dealt with later, to be honest. She had to prioritize, and at this moment the most important thing was getting her son back, no matter what it took. So what if there were people out there that thought she was a whore, sleeping with the enemy?

She didn't care, didn't give a flying fuck so long as Hugo was brought back to her unharmed.

"I need you to do something for me," he finally said to her after an awkward silence. "Since I'm doing the world for you. We can consider this payment."

_What, last night wasn't payment enough for you? _She desperately wanted to taunt him, say something mean, but she held her tongue. She didn't want him to fly off the handle once more and suffer the consequences. The consequences were never pleasant, she reminded herself. She'd just have to do whatever it is that he wanted her to do and hope that it was over with quickly.

"What do I have to do, then?" she muttered, pouring herself some coffee.

He seemed honestly surprised that she hadn't put up more of a fight and perhaps that had stumped him for a moment or two. Or perhaps he was just thinking of a way to phrase whatever he wanted from her correctly. It didn't matter. It wasn't as if she was going anywhere.

"Astoria's back in town," he started, scratching the back of his head. She raised a brow at him in confusion, but refrained from interrupting. What the hell did she care if his wife was back in town? "You're going to go to her and get my son from her bloody clutches."

She nearly choked on her coffee. "_What?" _she spluttered. This time he raised an eyebrow. It wasn't as if it was difficult information to process.

"I want you to go to the hotel she's staying at and bring me back my son," he said slowly, enunciating every syllable as if he thought she was stupid. Which he probably thought she actually was. "It's a start, at least."

She slammed her mug onto the granite counter. "Let me get this straight. You want me to barge in there and, what? Kidnap your son? Are you fucking _mental?_"

He rolled his eyes. "I don't care _how _you do it, just get it done." He just shrugged when her eyes widened and said nothing more. When he picked up the mug from the counter, taking a sip of her coffee without a second thought, she was seriously suffering from whiplash.

First he pretends to sleep with her then he shares beverages? _What_ _the fuck was wrong with him_? She wanted to ask him just that but he was already halfway out the door, taking her coffee with him. She was considering going after him and slapping some sense into his idiotic blond head when said head poked through the kitchen door, startling the hell out of her.

"Yeah, I forgot to say. Do it by tonight because they'll be gone tomorrow." And with that he was already out the door.

This time she didn't hesitate running after the ferret. "What the fuck, Malfoy? _Tonight?" _she shouted.

He barely turned to acknowledge her, bending down to change his shoes into a fresh pair, instead. "Are you deaf, woman? I did just say tonight, didn't I? Now get it done! It's a fair exchange."

That stumped her and she had nothing to say to him as he walked out the door, down the pathway, and apparating just outside the gates.

/

She didn't know what the hell she was doing pacing outside the hotel room, too afraid to knock. She shouldn't have been so scared of what was about to happen, or so confused either. Of course she had every right to be here, this is what would help Malfoy work even harder to find her son.

And anything justified that...

She'd always thought that Malfoy had the perfect life. Their family was always being photographed and they'd been the perfect picture of happiness. But then, she'd be foolish to assume that they were happy. Pictures were just that – pictures. They didn't mean anything, especially when it came to dealing with Malfoy.

So they weren't happy, she assumed. But why would Astoria refuse to let him see his son? There was nothing that excused that. Hermione knew the pain of being separated from one's child. No one deserved that kind of punishment, not even Malfoy.

She could hear Astoria from the other side of the door, most likely talking to Scorpius. She cringed at what she was about to do... But it just had to be done. There was no way around it. Malfoy had said so himself. This was payment.

So she knocked.

The voices on the other side of the door stilled immediately. She could hear hushed whispers after a moment and then quiet footsteps coming to the door. Hermione mentally braced herself for what was about to come, but there was not enough time before the door was opened.

She didn't know what she was expecting but whatever it was, it certainly wasn't this. Astoria Malfoy stood before her in a pair of pajamas that would've looked comical on anyone but her – she was honestly too beautiful to look silly in _anything _she wore. She was the kind of person other women felt uncomfortable being in the same room with because the woman was honestly too beautiful – Hermione wasn't an exception to this rule.

Astoria seemed just as surprised to see Hermione there as Hermione was to see her. Her blonde hair was dishevelled in the most beautiful way and Hermione could feel the pangs of jealousy begin to form in her stomach. It was too bad this woman was _evil, _not letting her own husband see their child. What kind of woman did that, anyways? But she didn't say anything. This was going to be painful enough without the accusations.

"Please, come in, Mrs. Wealsey," she said politely, without even bothering to ask what the hell Hermione was doing at her door. At least the woman had manners. They all seemed to have manners... "Or are you going by Ms. Granger these days?" Hermione was offered a seat.

"Um. Either or..." Hermione muttered ungraciously. She was put off by what was going on. She hadn't been prepared for this to be a civilized encounter.

Astoria smiled, actually _smiled, _at her in the same polite way all Slytherins seemed to have in political meetings. So this was going to be one of _those _days. "Alright, then, Ms. Granger. I hope you don't mind, you've caught us at an odd time. Would you mind if I quickly change into something more appropriate?"

"That's not necessary-" Hermione began, but the woman was already gone into what appeared to be a washroom and out again within two minutes. She was wearing a slightly wrinkled dress but she looked even more beautiful than before. She pulled her hair into a sloppy bun before sitting across from Hermione in the only other chair in the room, pulling Scorpius into her lap.

They were the perfect picture, both well sculpted, long limbed, and the epitome of grace. They were smiling at her even though they had no reason to. It pained her, because she was about to become their enemy. Or wasn't she already their enemy?

To be honest, the only reason Astoria hadn't kicked her out of the room was because she was _Hermione freaking Granger-Weasley. _War hero, blah blah blah.

"To what do I owe the pleasure?" Astoria asked, smiling. She didn't seem hostile at all. It made Hermione uncomfortable. She didn't _seem _like she was acting, not at all. She seemed quite genuine. But then again, Astoria had no idea that Hermione was a threat. Perhaps that would change it all.

Or maybe she was just that great of an actor.

"Mr. Malfoy, your husband..." She could see the flash of shock on Astoria's face. "Well, he sent me here." Hermione nearly cringed. Her discomfort was probably clear to the entire room.

Astoria had to clear her throat, her face unnaturally pale before she finally addressed Hermione once more. "Scorpius darling, can you go play in the other room for a while? Ms. Granger and I have a little work to do, alright?" Scorpius just nodded and skipped away, blissfully unaware that his life was about to change. "What does he want?" she asked Hermione. Her tone was sharper than the edge of a sword.

"He um..." but she couldn't find it in herself to say it. So instead, she handed Astoria the package that she'd gotten from the ministry and filled out on Malfoy's behalf.

"Rights to the child? _Guardianship? _This is absurd!" Astoria nearly shouted out to no one in particular while thumbing through the pages. When she finally looked up to meet Hermione's gaze, her eyes were filled with unshed tears. "But there must be something you can do..."

It killed her to do it, it really did, but she shook her head. "I can't do anything, I'm sorry. I have to take Scorpius to the Manor..."

Tears began to brim over Astoria's eyes and pour down her pretty face. Somewhere deep in her mind, it bothered Hermione that this woman could look so beautiful even when she was in agony. It was no surprise then that someone like Malfoy would choose to marry someone like Astoria – too beautiful to even stare at too long without feeling self-conscious.

"You're honestly going to sit there and take away my son to that _bastard?" _Hermione cringed. "Do you have any idea how hard I've worked to keep Scorpius safe and you're just going to ruin it all?" It seemed as if Astoria was snapping at the seams right in front of her and Hermione could do nothing about it. "You know Draco, don't you? He'll corrupt my son! He'll...he'll..." and then she truly burst into sobs.

Hermione reached over and placed her hand over Astoria's. This woman wasn't the least bit evil, she realized. She was just a mother, just any other woman that had the misfortune of marrying a man she didn't like or love. Hermione could honestly see why Astoria would want to keep her son away from Draco now. When she actually thought about it, Draco wasn't exactly... a model figure was he?

She'd thought he was the ferret devil from hell on many an occasion, so why would she expect Astoria to think any differently?

But then, she was trusting the life of her son in Draco Malfoy's hands.

It was too confusing to comprehend.

The next few hours were the most awkward Hermione had ever suffered through. Astoria had went from sobbing, to accusing Hermione of kidnapping, to sobbing again, to pleading with her to have some sense. And when all had failed – because Hermione _really _needed to do this – Astoria had turned colder than Draco Malfoy had ever been.

And the glare that she had pinned Hermione with was honestly as daunting as searching for horcruxes.

"I'm truly sorry, Mrs. Malfoy. There is nothing I can do," said a very irritated Hermione three hours into the blasted conversation. "Trust me, I don't like him any more than you do, I'm just doing what I have to do."

"You think you can just waltz in anywhere and do whatever the hell you want, don't you? Just because you're the _fucking _golden girl!" Hermione cringed at the implication and tone of the other woman's words. This wasn't something she had signed up for. Wasn't something that she wanted to go through. _For Hugo... For Hugo. _"Well, let me tell you-"

"I think that is enough. I insist you start packing now," Hermione said, shakily getting up from her seat. This had been an emotionally trying experience to say the least. Astoria seemed stunned that Hermione had actually stood up against her. After all, who stood up against someone that beautiful? But in the end, she had no other choice but to get up and pack her sons things.

That didn't stop her from slamming the bedroom door right in Hermione's face.

"You're just going to go see papa for a few days, alright, my love? And I want you to behave and brush your teeth every day. And no cheating!" Astoria cooed. She sounded like a loving mother, really. It didn't matter that she was cold to other people... so long as she was lovely to Scorpius. "Now, I don't want you wasting your time with nonsense, alright? No broomsticks. You're going to be _studying._ What shall you be doing?"

"Studying," she heard Scorpius mutter back.

"And don't you let that mudblood get to your head. Alright?"

"Yes, mother."

_That bitch! _

Hermione opened the door and cleared her throat. Astoria stood up and pecked her son on each cheek before turning her full glare power onto Hermione. She hadn't been gladder to escape from somewhere in _years. _This was insanity. Who would ever want to live with a woman like that?

When they made their way towards the door, Astoria grabbed Hermione's spare hand before she could escape. "Are you happy?" she whispered so Scorpius wouldn't hear their parting words. "That bastard is going to _ruin _my son!"

Hermione became irritated. From what she could tell, Astoria wasn't that great of a mother either. "No more than you have, Mrs. Malfoy. Good evening to you."

Oh, she'd been so satisfied with the shocked expression on the blonde witch's face and pleased that she'd finally gotten a jab at the snobbery. She had never thought she'd feel sorry for Draco Malfoy, but if someone had to live with a person like Astoria... well, that would explain the evil crabbiness.

She supposed she could excuse Malfoy for being such a git for a while.

But more than that, when Malfoy eventually sauntered in to find his son sitting in a kitchen chair, she knew she'd done the right thing by bringing Scorpius here. The grateful smile Malfoy had thrown her way, the way he had picked his son up and kissed his cheeks and forehead before hugging the boy to him, the utter _affection _of it all...

Draco wasn't half as bad a parent as Astoria clearly was. 


	11. The Noose

**Chapter Eleven: The Noose**

The remnants of the buckets filled with porridge had just been finished when the children backed up against the wall to watch it magically refill. It was a curious thing, suddenly having as much food (if this nasty, clumpy liquid could be considered food) as they could possibly want to eat.

Hugo hadn't even been there as long as some of the others and even he had become used to the aching pangs of hunger. At first the man had starved them, feeding them every so often as if it were an afterthought – a chore. But now, the buckets were always there, always refilling whenever the children managed to finish it off.

Hugo vaguely recalled reading about _transport charms, _where items from one location could be conjured into another location by a simple spell. It was the same charm used at Hogwarts, the book had said. Food prepared in the kitchens would be placed on a table and transport charms would take the food to the Great Hall, where everyone had their meals. Or something like that. Hugo assumed there were buckets upstairs somewhere with porridge in them.

But that didn't explain why they were being fed all of a sudden.

The blonde little girl said it was because they needed to have strength for what was to come and the man realized that. She refused to eat more than what was necessary, refused to take anything more than what was needed to survive, to stop her from passing out.

Hugo didn't know if she was right or wrong, or if he should trust her with this. He honestly tried not to eat as much as the other kids and in part he succeeded. But Hugo was a growing boy and he _did _need to eat. He couldn't control his hunger as well as the girl could.

But it seemed that blondie knew he was trying and smiled at him every so often for his efforts. He liked that. He felt as if together, he and the strange girl could find a way to get past all of this and escape from this place. She was wise and he had done a lot of reading. They could probably manage to do _something. _Anything would suffice at this point.

But that anything didn't come and when Hugo realized this, he thought it never would.

For all Hugo was worth, he hadn't expected what had come next. Well, alright. He had subconsciously been dreading it all along. He'd even consciously though it, had even voiced it out loud to the others, just as they'd voiced it out loud to him.

But somehow, it didn't actually register as a reality in his mind. Hadn't occurred to him that something like this could _actually _happen. He was a little boy, after all, and these things weren't really something that were supposed to occur in their minds. They were too sweet and innocent for such things. Bruises and discomfort were nothing. Bad food and lack of hygiene were also bearable. But there had always been time to prepare for everything else.

There had always been time thus far to plan ahead and make sure it would all be alright.

Time for everything. There was lots of time.

_There was no time! Not anymore! _

At first, it didn't really register with Hugo. At first, he really had no clue which direction the events were going to unceremoniously turn to. He hadn't been prepared for it, any of it. None of the other children had been either. Hugo just wished he'd seen it coming sooner.

But this lack of awareness didn't stop him or any of the others from being scared, not in the least! It didn't stop them from letting out a scream or two, or shuddering. Rather than being the brave Gryffindor his mother was and no doubt wanted him to be too, he cowered against the furthest wall. Hugo kind of even felt ashamed of his behaviour, too.

He couldn't help it. He was just afraid. It made him sad that he couldn't be brave, not for him or anyone else. He was sad that he was nothing like his mum or dad, nothing like uncle Harry or _his _children. _They _were all very brave if the stories were anything to go by and Hugo would never be anything like them. He would never be like the characters of the stories he always read. He would just be the frightful little boy for the rest of his short life.

But there was nothing Hugo could do about this. So he cowered.

The man walked in and stalked towards them. Hugo could see the man was a little bit crazier looking than usual. His eyes were wide, bright, and his pupils too dilated to be normal. His cheeks were flushed a deep red and his clothes were in a disarray. Hugo thought that his clothes looked a little damp with sweat and a little dirty too. Hugo didn't know if it was dirt or blood. Perhaps both...

Despite abysmal his appearance, Hugo had never seen the man look so happy. It was this fact more than anything that scared the living daylights out of Hugo.

The man finally reached as close to them as possible and stopped his prowl. Their breaths stopped and Hugo thought that he would actually faint from the pressure. It seemed as if the man was attempting to remember what he was doing there, standing in front of the children he had captured. He looked a fright, looked as if he would crush them without thinking twice.

Eventually, the man shook his head and came to his senses. He looked down at the children as if just realizing where he was and who he was staring down at.

Hugo shivered.

The man suddenly lurched forward and grabbed the black haired boy by the hair. The little boy had been unfortunate enough to be the closest to the man. The man had grabbed him so fast that the other children had no idea what was going on, not even the boy himself. He had already been painfully dragged halfway to the door before he had even thought to scream.

And the scream had been piercing.

Before they could even flinch, the man had slammed the door behind him, trapping the rest of them once again in the desolate room. They could hear the boy struggling and yelling as the man forced him up the steep stairs by the hair.

Hugo felt a pinch of regret – sorry that he hadn't reacted soon enough to do anything to help the boy. But that feeling was swamped by the feeling of fear he felt for the boy, instead... Sorry that he couldn't switch places with him. Sorrier that he really didn't want to in the first place.

Soon they heard the door to the basement stairs slam back into place and the body of the now convulsing boy was placed directly above them, just a few wooden floorboards separating them from their friend.

They heard the man pacing, going to and fro somewhere, and a door somewhere far off was opened. A couple of pairs of feet followed the man back to where the little boy was crouched. All of the children stared up at the ceiling where they could see the bottoms of three pairs of shoes and a pair of scared little eyes staring down at them through the cracks in the floorboards.

Hugo's breath hitched. He wanted to yell out to the boy to be brave, wanted to shout to the boy if only to encourage him just a little. He wanted to do something, _anything. _But anything that would've left his mouth would've all been lies and Hugo was too afraid to do anything anyways.

"What shall we do this time?" a voice drifted down. "Perhaps another attempt just to be sure that it doesn't work?" It was someone other than the crazy man. It was a woman, Hugo decided. A very gravelly sounding woman.

"Hmm..." they heard the man quietly contemplate. "I don't know."

A deeper voice made up their mind. "This one's disposable, boss. What, with your new prospect lined up and all."

The children became seriously scared at that point. Disposable? What did they mean disposable? What were they going to do to the boy? It seemed as if the boy was even more scared than they were – and he had every right to be, Hugo realized – as he stared down at them, his eyes moving from left to right. No sound escaped his mouth, but Hugo knew. The boy was frightened and his heart was pounding just as fast as Hugo's was, if not faster.

"I suppose you're right," they heard the man finally assent.

And then there were voices.

Hugo didn't know _what _they were saying or what was happening, really. He knew they were doing some kind of magic, but he certainly didn't know what kind. It sounded nothing like the spells that he'd heard his mother and Manny use, wasn't like the runes his mother had shown him, and he'd definitely read nothing about this kind of thing. It was just..._different. _

Different and wrong. Different, because Hugo couldn't understand any of it. Wrong because although they couldn't hear the boy screaming they could see him writhing above them, could see his horrified and pained expression. Hugo knew the boy was in great, great pain. What he didn't know was if the evil people had cast a silencing charm on him or if he was in too much pain to say anything.

Hugo had never even heard of a pain like that and was instantly scared.

"They're doing it," the blonde girl whispered in his ear. He stared over at her immediately. Her eyes were fixated above, staring at the boy with morbid fascination. Hugo felt a little sick at her expression. Why wasn't she thinking of a way out for the boy? "They're taking his magic. It's begun. We can't do anything about it."

Hugo realized she was right, but that didn't stop him from staring up and watching. He had to know what to prepare himself for, that was his reason. But it was more than that. He wanted to...wanted to somehow help the boy, make it easier for him. This was all he could do. He could watch and so he did. He just hoped it was enough.

Whether or not it was enough, Hugo would never know, because the boy had stopped moving and the people had stopped muttering and chanting above them. Hugo was glad that the boy wasn't suffering anymore. That had had to hurt, surely. And when the evil people brought the boy back down here, Hugo would be the first to help him feel better, that was for sure. He would apologize and rub his legs and...

Something wet spattered onto Hugo's forehead.

At first, Hugo didn't understand what was happening. He just wiped at his forehead impatiently as he stared up, waiting for something to happen, waiting for the boy to be moved. But nothing did. The children only stared at him.

And then another drop fell... then another, and another, until several children were spattered with the substance. Hugo thought that the ceiling was leaking and their living conditions were going to take another hit downwards until he looked, _really _looked.

Then he screamed.

He stared at his hands, the other spattered children, then to the ceiling and back again. Yes, the ceiling was leaking, and yes their living conditions were about to get a lot worse. But it was not filthy water that Hugo should be worried about. No, it was blood. Blood! _Blood. _Hugo wished he hadn't looked up all of a sudden, wished he hadn't ever thought of such a thing, because all that looked back were a pair of open and very dead eyes.

And then there were seven.

All that could be heard for hours from the little dungeon were sobs.

The children were shell shocked to say the least. They hadn't ever expected to see what they had seen – no matter that they were trapped in a dungeon. Should they have expected it? The question didn't even register. They were too busy mourning the loss of the little black haired boy. Hugo felt as if it was all his fault but he didn't really know how to make amends. Who would he have made amends to anyhow?

The boy was _dead. _

It was true that Hugo really couldn't comprehend what had happened to them. He didn't _really _know what he'd seen or what he'd thought he'd seen. His young, innocent mind couldn't process the images that had been just above him. All he could see were the empty eyes and the leaking blood... It haunted him, really, just as it haunted the rest of them.

Except for the little blonde girl.

For some reason she seemed just as unperturbed as always, just as blank, just as smiley. It was as if she had no idea that the boy had died, even though she'd seen it with her own eyes, had had blood splattered on her face. Hugo wanted to be mad at her, wanted to yell at her to at least _cry. _But he couldn't make her do anything, he realized. She was crazy.

Only, Hugo knew deep down inside that she wasn't crazy at all. He eventually realized that she had expected this kind of thing to happen. She'd been here the longest out of them all so she'd actually _seen _this happen before. It pained Hugo to think that the man had made the little girl go crazy. She was his friend, after all, even if she wouldn't cry.

She _had _warned them that the man was coming to take their magic. She had said that the man was evil and that they all shouldn't eat the porridge. It was their fault for not listening to her.

Hugo felt utter remorse for what had happened. It was his fault for not helping escape soon enough and now one of them was dead. It was all Hugo's fault and he couldn't do anything at all about it. If only he had tried harder, if only he had done _something _different. Even now, he had no idea what he ought to be doing, didn't know where to go from here. But he knew the time was now and that soon, one by one, they'd all reach the same fate as the little boy.

And he really didn't want to. He wanted to go home...

When the door to the dungeon opened once again, the children knew to move completely back against the furthest wall. Spread out so that no one was any further away than anyone else, no one too close to the man either.

They were friends, at least. They'd discussed their strategy should the man come and try to get another one of them. If he took one of them once more, they would tackle his legs. Another would jump on his back and poke out his eyes if they could. Then they would bite and scratch until the man fell and then make a run for it.

But Hugo knew that this plan would no doubt fail. For one, they had no idea where they were and even if they were to escape from this room, they had no idea where they were going. And even if they managed to escape the building, what then? That was if they could take the man down at all. The man was strong and he had magic. They were weak, starved, and had no magic to speak of. They would lose.

But it was the only plan Hugo had and that was what he had to put his hopes in.

The man just stood there, staring at them for a moment as if contemplating what he wanted to do. Hugo hated the man more than anything else at that moment. It was one thing to kidnap them and bring them here, but to kill his friends! Hugo was _angry. _He almost wished that the man would come and try to take one of them just so he could beat his little fists into the man's face repeatedly.

"Did you enjoy our little show, munchkins?" the man asked as if making conversation.

Hugo couldn't believe his ears. _Enjoy? _The angry bubble within Hugo's chest built further until Hugo couldn't even breathe. His face flushed and it was all he could do to hold himself down. The blonde girl put her hand on his back and Hugo realized he couldn't mess this up, not right now. She smiled at him and he let out the breath he had been holding in.

"That's alright, you don't need to answer," the man said with a smile, as if letting them in on a little secret. "I know it was a _fabulous _show! But don't worry. Next time we'll make sure to make it less messy. Deal?"

No one said a word and that was good, because Hugo thought he would explode. He thought... he thought he would just magically combust if he didn't do something now! He had a plan, he could make it work somehow. Even if the plan didn't work, even if everything went wrong, at least he'd have gotten rid of this consuming _anger. _

And then Hugo froze. He froze because either he was going crazy or the door latch had just shifted right before his eyes, opened, and pushed itself out a little.

_The door had just opened! _

Hugo didn't know if he was the cause of the door opening or if there was someone outside doing it. But Hugo couldn't see anyone through the bars in the door and the man certainly hadn't done it. The man was still gloating to them. Looking around him, Hugo looked at the other children to see if they had done anything or had even noticed the door unlatching and opening itself. But they hadn't. They were too engrossed with the man standing in front of them.

And that was just as well, Hugo thought. He didn't want anyone to know he could do this, if he could do it at all. This was...this was _good! _

"We're going get things to change around here," the man was saying, but Hugo couldn't care less about what the man had to say to them now. If he could get that door open, if he could just unlatch the door on his own, then he'd never have to hear the man speak ever again. No, he'd be free. He'd _escape! _"And I'm sure you all will enjoy the changes!"

Hugo concentrated with all his might. Focused all his energy on just making the door shut itself back up. His face turned a bright red as he just _willed _the door to move and very slowly, it did. Hugo Weasley could do magic and Hugo Weasley was going to get out of this place as soon as the man left.

Things were really starting to look up all of a sudden.

/

Draco once again found her in the kitchen many hours later. The apprehension knotted tightly in his stomach only tied itself up further at the sight of her teaching her son something out of a book. Trust Granger to devote herself to studying with his son! Know-it-all little mud- _muggleborn _bookworm.

Yeah, he couldn't even call her a mudblood in his head anymore. The feeling made him sick.

It wasn't that he didn't hate her. _He did. _He despised every bone in her pretty body. She was the reason Blaise was dead, after all, he kept reminding himself. She was the reason that his sheets smelled like strawberries and cinnamon. The reason his son actually smiled. The reason his son was there in the first place. The reason for this inexplicable confusion in his head...

So alright, he didn't _completely _hate her. Only loathed her quite a bit. That was still something to go by, right? He wasn't falling for Granger. Definitely not. So what if he'd begun to realize that she was quite hot and the fact that he'd been too busy with work to consider sex? She was a good looking woman and he just needed to get laid, that was all. Draco was human, after all. It was only natural. That didn't mean Granger was _bearable _in any shape or form.

But she did have nice eyes, yes. He could give her that much.

_Nice eyes? What are you, a lovesick sap? Pull yourself together, fucker! _said the voice in his head.

The only issue was, the voice in his head sounded exactly like Granger and he had no fucking idea why. He didn't care though. It was all easy to ignore with everything that was going on. In fact, when he put it into perspective, his thoughts hardly even mattered. Yeah, some psycho had stolen Granger's son, so what did it matter that he'd made her stay in his house because it made him feel a little less lonely?

God, he was losing it. He just needed to be completely brutal with her for the next few days, find her son, and cut all relations. It'd be too suspicious if he just kicked her to the curb now. Besides, he was worried that if he did something like that, someone would come hurt her. They'd killed Blaise and if they could kill someone like that they'd have no problem killing her.

_And that just won't do_, he sighed to himself. As much as he supposedly "disliked" her, it would be counterproductive. Why save the son if the mother was dead? It was a sick way to go about things, sure, but it was a good enough rationalization to keep the woman in his house and continue to let her sleep in his bed.

So what if the scent helped him go to sleep when she wasn't around? He was completely entitled. It was his bed, his sheets... and he needed the sleep to function while he was out attempting to force whatever information there was out of the seediest circles to roam the earth.

Snapping out of his thoughts, he cleared his throat to alert the pair of his presence. Scorpius looked up immediately and grinned. Granger just stared. "It's time for bed, Scorpius," he said, gently, pulling the boy off his seat and into his arms. He'd never get over being able to do that again. "It's well past your bedtime, kiddo."

Scorpius wrinkled his nose. "It's ten thirty!"

"It's ten forty-five, mister," Draco chided. Scorpius just shrugged nonchalantly, which made Draco chuckle and kiss the little boy on the nose. "You can continue tomorrow, I promise," he added with a smile.

Scorpius grinned, delighted at the prospect of spending another day with Granger. He looked towards her. "Will you get me ice cream tomorrow?" he asked in a stage whisper, clearly not meaning for his father to hear.

Granger actually cracked a smile and Draco was pleased at the sight, though he had no idea why. He didn't _want _to feel pleased, didn't want to have anything to do with it... But it was nice, nonetheless. She was pretty when she smiled.

"Only if you're good," she promised. Scorpius eagerly nodded in return.

"Minky!" Draco called. An elf dressed in a soft white pillow case appeared at the command and bowed slightly. "Please take Scorpius to bed now, will you?" The elf bowed her head slightly and Scorpius jumped off his father's lap, taking the elf's hand. "Now, I'm going to come check on you later, young man, and if I find you're still awake you shan't get any ice cream tomorrow, got it?"

Scorpius smiled cheekily. "Yes, papa."

"Good! Sweet dreams, love."

With that, Minky the house elf took Scorpius out of the kitchen and left the unlikely pair in silence. It wasn't a completely awkward silence, at least not for Draco. He felt quite... alright. Minus the fact that he wanted to jump Granger's bones, but that was simply a side effect.

He sighed.

"Did everything go okay...today?" came Hermione's weak voice. Draco looked up and surveyed her. She seemed fragile, as if anything could break her. Made of glass, the woman was. Draco wondered if he had anything to do with her condition. "I mean... am I allowed to ask that? Sorry, I just..."

"No, it didn't go very well," Draco said, surprising himself. He hadn't planned to answer anything – he normally wouldn't have answered anything at all. But he felt he owed it to her, at least after everything he'd done to her. He knew he'd been a downright git so far. That was why he'd let her come with him to the club the other night, when he'd been searching for leads on little Weasley. It was why he spoke up now. "We ran into a lot of trouble."

"We?" she questioned sharply.

"Potter and I." Merlin, it was easy to talk to her. "We found another body in the Thames. A little boy by the looks of it and the same magical signatures all over the body and it was just...bad..." Draco trailed off at her expression.

She'd turned sheet white, as if all the blood had just left her body. He realized his mistake immediately, of course, but it was too late to take anything back. "Was it..._please _tell me it wasn't..."

"No, Granger. It wasn't your son," he immediately babbled. Draco got up from his seat across the table from her and came to sit down next to her instead. "It was...it was just the same magical signature, you know... I just... I don't know what I was thinking. I shouldn't have told you this." He almost smacked his head against the table.

She shook her head, but there were tears pouring down her face. This was worse than anything he'd seen so far and he immediately felt like a git. She was crying, _obviously _she was crying. "Malfoy – _Draco, _you...he's in _danger!" _Her voice was nearly hysterical and she reached out to clutch at his forearm. "You have to...please, just do something, please. Bring him back. You promised."

She was shaking like a leaf. "I'm doing everything I can... We have people on this every hour of the day. I've even got my own people on this." He pinned her with a serious gaze. "I'm doing _everything _I can. We have to be smart here, though, okay?" His voice was almost soothing, but it did nothing to calm her down. If anything, she only started shaking more.

"No, no...no..." her sobs became more frequent.

"_Hermione. _I'm not going to make stupid moves here. I'm doing everything in my power to -" but he could tell she wasn't listening. She was having a panic attack, and just as well.

He didn't know what to do.

It was the only thing he _could_ think of to do, so he pulled her frail body into his arms and held her there until she stopped shivering. Eventually, her arms wound themselves around his waist and the skin of his neck was damp with her tears. She was still crying, but not sobbing anymore. He stroked her hair soothingly, just like he'd have done with Scorpius.

"I'm trying my best, Granger," he finally whispered, hoping she'd fallen asleep against him so that they wouldn't have to continue this conversation. "I'm doing the best I can."

She raised her head from his neck, sniffling. Her little upturned nose was slightly red, as were her eyes and cheeks. "But they're _killing _children," she said in such despair that Draco's heart cringed. "They...they could hurt my baby, Malfoy..."

Draco didn't know what was going through her head at the moment. He honestly had no idea what she was probably suffering through. His head had shut down and he knew that if he had been in her position, he'd have collapsed by now under the strain. And this is what he liked about her. This is what made him want to be _just like her. _But he wasn't, and he couldn't, so he did the one thing he did know was close enough.

He kissed her.

It was gentle, just a pressing of the lips. But her lips were so soft, he almost felt like he was in heaven. She didn't pull away. He knew it was probably because she was in shock. When he opened his eyes, he could see a tear clinging to her lashes and he knew he probably hadn't seen anything as beautiful as that before.

But then, he also knew he was suffering from stress, anxiety, and a lack of sex.

Regardless, he let her go and could immediately tell that feelings of guilt were passing through her. He didn't blame her. She probably felt as if she _owed _it to him to let him kiss her. He didn't care. He'd just done it thoughtlessly, anyways.

"I made a promise," he said gently as he got up to leave, not daring to look back at her lest he actually have to explain himself for once. "I intend to keep it."

As he went upstairs to his room to retrieve the black blade, he knew it was true. He was going to find Hugo Weasley if it was the last thing he ever did. 


	12. Break it Before you Fix it

**Chapter Twelve: Break It Before You Fix It **

Hugo waited for hours upon hours for the man to leave the house, but the children appeared to be down on their luck for the man did not leave for _hours _on end. He was up there above them, pacing, talking to himself, or speaking with occasional visitors.

But Hugo did not mind this at all. He knew he had to be patient or else they would mess up and die. And that really wasn't an option now, not now that they had such a brilliant plan. Hugo hadn't told the others yet that he could do magic if he tried really, really, really hard. It would be no use to get their hopes up just yet. He didn't want them to mess anything up.

So he kept silent, just in case.

He had no doubt that they'd listen to him when the time came, of course. The children trusted each other and they trusted Hugo. If Hugo said that he could get them out of there, they would follow him the best they could. Especially after what they had seen.

Especially after...after having the blood of their friend poured onto their heads.

But even so, waiting for the man to leave was the most difficult experience of Hugo's life. Yes, he'd been bruised and beaten, kidnapped and starved, horrified to the extent of emotional and mental damage... But this was by far the worst thing that had happened to him thus far. He wanted to _scream _at the man for staying. He wanted to jump about or pace. Something, _anything _had to be better than this suspense!

But he really had no choice but to sit in a dark, damp corner, quietly so that no attention was drawn to him. He knew that if he was taken and killed, the rest would be too. He was their only hope and he sure as hell was not about to let them die now. Not now. Not ever.

Still, it would've been nice if the man had just left. It would have made things quite a lot easier.

Just when Hugo had just about had enough and was about to go to sleep, the children were plunged into darkness.

This had not been the first time that this had happened, so the children weren't _completely _panicking. The man occasionally threw them into the dark and sealed up the ceiling with magic so that no light was able to filter through. Hugo wasn't sure what the purpose of doing such a thing was, but he didn't care very much.

In the past when the man had done this, it had meant that the children could sleep in a quiet, drip free space. Now it just meant that Hugo would have to wait for who knew how long and he really didn't like the odds of that.

But what was he supposed to do? He couldn't just open the door and escape now. He didn't know what was on the other side and he definitely didn't know if the man hadn't sealed the door with magic too. Besides, Hugo could barely see his own two hands let alone the door handle! It would be taking a too big risk and Hugo didn't _want _to do something stupid.

So he'd just have to wait for a little bit longer, no matter how antsy the prospect made him.

He thought that he might as well take a nap in the meanwhile so that he could conserve all of his energies for later on when he opened the door. It wouldn't do to be tired when escaping, so sleep would be the best option at the moment. He blindly reached in front of him to reach for the other children. When his hand grazed someone's head, they reached for him too.

They huddled together on the floor, holding each other close, willing sleep to come. Hugo tried to relax every muscle in his body, tried to make himself calm enough to sleep. But his nerves wouldn't let him. He was excited that he might be able to go home in a few hours and more than a little scared of failing and getting caught.

But that was a risk he was going to have to take. If not for himself, then for the rest of the children. They were going to get themselves out alive if it was the last thing he ever did! At least, that is what he kept promising himself. It wouldn't be good to get nervous and mess up because of that. His mother always told him that being calm would always get you places and if you panicked, you were just setting yourself up for failure.

So he took a deep breath to calm himself and promptly coughed violently.

It surprised him at first that he was coughing so hard, but he had always been the most sensitive to dust and other things out of all of the other children, so they weren't surprised either. But when the coughing didn't subside, he began to panic and the other children reached towards him to pat him on the back. But even then, the coughing didn't stop.

Then slowly, some of the other children felt it in their lungs too and began to cough crazily. Hugo realized something was seriously wrong at this point. He couldn't stop coughing and his lungs were starting to ache. His eyes started to water and still the coughing did not subside. Slowly he began to realize that the air in their little room was quite a lot thicker than normal.

Almost as if it were filled with smoke.

The last thing Hugo thought before he passed out was that he should've escaped the room when he had the chance. Now they were all going to suffer.

Now they might never have the chance to leave ever again.

/

Draco yawned and then immediately winced when he heard his jaw crack. He was definitely tired and sore, that was for sure.

That was the bad part of having to do one's own stake out, he supposed. It was quite unfortunate that it had come to such _unpleasant _terms as doing such demeaning work on his own, but he really didn't trust other people on this particular job. It wasn't that other people were incompetent (though more than ninety percent of them _were _imbeciles_) _it was just that he needed to get this done right if he wanted it to be over soon.

And soon wasn't soon enough, apparently.

He had gone to hell and back to find any useful leads on the whereabouts of Hugo Weasley, but had been faced with dead ends everywhere. Every rotten scoundrel, every drug dealer, every crook on the goddamn island had been faced with the angry face of Draco Malfoy and his associates (as well as the Auror department as back up) but nothing had come of it.

For many painstakingly long hours, Draco had been empty handed and hopeless. He had threatened, coerced, bribed, lied, and assaulted many shady looking characters and all had given him the same answer.

"_I've not seen nothing, mister!" _

"_You got the wrong man, Malfoy." _

"_We've not heard anything, no." _

"_I'd rather die than help Death Eater scum like you, Malfoy!" _

And Draco had almost snapped at all of them, almost drawn his wand and spewed every torture spell he'd ever learned and then some. It was only the fact that he honestly had to move on or risk losing sight of his mission that had saved the idiots from his wrath.

And what an impressive wrath it would have been, too. Malfoy men always knew how to get what they want and do it in style too. Draco wasn't exactly an exception to this well established rule. It was just taking him a little longer than usual to get his way in this particular instance... Not that it didn't infuriate the hell out of him. But he had been confident and that had led everyone on to the next name on the slowly diminishing list.

But on the inside, Draco had felt like he was failing. He had _really _hated the feeling, despised it more than he hated his wife, more than he had ever hated Potter and Granger. For him, feeling like he'd failed meant that he was back in sixth year, back to sobbing in the girl's lavatory in front of a ghost who only liked him because he was _beautiful in his agony. _

And then he'd be nothing like Granger and her golden glory.

He'd _always _wanted to be like Granger and her brilliant self. She'd _always _made it work no matter what the issue was. She solved problems, got things done in fabulous fashion. No matter the fact that a deranged fucking fugitive was carving mudblood into her arm, or if she was facing the Dark Lord himself. She'd always been strong and he was a fucking coward.

And in those crippling few hours that he'd uselessly gone through person after person, checking useless name after name on his mental list, he'd honestly been afraid for his sanity. If he could never be as strong as Granger, he'd never make it anywhere in life, and then it'd all have been for nothing. He'd have survived the war for nothing.

_I should have died... I should have died... I should have bled... _

But as things were, he hadn't died and he hadn't bled much. And he knew if he didn't pull himself together, he _would _no doubt fail and then he'd be branded a loser for the rest of his life. He would have to hide in his room with Scorpius if Astoria hadn't already taken the boy away by that time and then he'd never have Granger or her sweet, sweet lips...

_Except, you've never really failed truly have you. You did win in sixth year. You let the Death Eaters in. Don't give up, you moron! Not now. _

The voice in his head, which still sounded peculiarly like Granger, was absolutely right. He _had _won, no matter how bad a victory it was. He'd accomplished nearly every true goal he'd had in life. He'd saved his parents from being killed during the war. He'd separated himself from the madness _after _the war. He'd built his own fortune and fame. He'd made friends with Potter. And he'd made Hermione Granger beg.

And cry.

And moan... God, yes, moan.

Well, alright. He had best scratch that last one out for his own sanity's sake. But the message was the same. He hadn't failed and he _wouldn't _fail. There had to be some hope left for him somewhere. He wasn't going to just become a loser all of a sudden because he _had _won quite a bit.

It was with that new found determination that he had walked into a dump of a building to find a man that had been Blaise's drug dealer. Draco knew the man _had _to have known something. Blaise had always been a blabbermouth and if there was someone who was willing to listen to Blaise, it was either Draco or the man who sold the idiot drugs.

Draco had subconsciously known that if this man knew nothing, Hugo Weasley was as good as dead.

"_Come now, Jameson. Am I not good enough to talk to now? You know it was my galleons that made their way into your pockets when Zabini was forgetful." Draco eyed the man and his shabby attire. He crossed his ankle over his knee and sat there, waiting for a good enough response. _

"_Meaning no disrespect, sir. Blaise was my friend too." _

_Draco laughed. Blaise had no friends beyond Draco and Draco knew that very well. Most people had just used Blaise for his fame, money, or just to have a good time. Jameson the drug dealer was no different. If nothing else, Jameson was the worst of them all, feeding Blaise into an industry which he would never be able to come out of. For that, Draco despised the man that sat before him with a passion that surprised even himself. But he knew that now was not the time to act brash and rip people's heads off. That could come later. _

"_Then for Blaise," said Draco slowly, inclining his head as if giving the man some importance. "Nothing you say will come back to haunt you. That much I can guarantee." The man didn't need to know he was lying, obviously. There were Aurors waiting to send the man to Azkaban outside his door after Draco was finished questioning him. He wanted to grin to himself, but refrained. "Please. I know Blaise was very fond of you and I believe he said something about leaving you quite a fortune in his will. But this is a murder investigation and they cannot read the will until it's been solved. Surely you're aware of this." _

_The man's eyes lit up even as he tried to hide his enthusiasm and Draco almost wanted to burst out laughing. Of course the fucker would respond to the name of gold. How pathetic! Draco didn't care that he had lied – obviously, the will had been read days ago – but the man was a scumbag and an idiot with no knowledge of his own legal system. _

_He was going to get everything that he deserved. _

_Jameson leaned forwards, looking about him to see if there were any prying ears before he opened his mouth. "The night before they found 'im, Blaise came to me talking 'bout some missing children and how the boys down at Heffings pointed to somewhere in Knockturn Alley." Draco's heart started to pump faster and felt a flutter in his chest that always came before a lead. "Down by the Skull Pile..." _

_Draco's heart nearly stopped. _

_Skull Pile were the rejects of Knockturn Alley, if one could even be rejected from such a vile place to begin with. It was the area where the most desolate, most evil, the shadiest of the shadiest lived and lurked. It was in the heart and depths of Knockturn Alley, and perhaps the most dangerous place in Wizarding Britain. Draco's heart clenched to think he had unknowingly sent his friend to such a place at an hour where he was sure to get himself killed. _

"_Where in Skull Pile?" Draco asked quietly. _

_The man shook his head. "I've no clue, Mr. Malfoy. Blaise did not say-" _

_But Draco grabbed him by his dirty collar and began to shake him violently. "Where in Skull Pile?" _

"_I don't know! I swear it I don't know!" _

_Draco pulled out his wand and placed it at the man's temple. "I'm going to count to three and then you are going to tell me exactly what Blaise told you or the next words out of my mouth will make sure you never breathe again. Alright?" The man started sputtering. "One." He began muttering some nonsense about not knowing, shaking in Draco's grip. "Two." There were tears pouring down his ugly face and Draco almost felt satisfied. "Three." The man cringed. "Avada-"_

"_I'll tell you! Stop! I'll tell you!" the man's chest heaved as Draco lowered his wand an inch, digging the tip into the Jameson's lined face._

_Draco realized that this was the time to make it or break it. Everything that came out of Jameson's filthy mouth would affect the investigation and Draco really didn't have the time to go after empty leads anymore. He was loath to do it, but he just had to wake up the dormant black blade nestled safely on his back with a nonverbal incantation."Waiting on you, Jameson. I've not got all day." _

"_He...he said something about going down to Black's bar..." Jameson sputtered. _

He lies! _crooned the blade into Draco's mind. _

_Draco shivered at the voice but pressed his wand into Jameson's neck. "You're lying, bastard. Now, if the next words out of your mouth are not the truth, I will skewer you and feed you to the pigs," he said in a deceptively calm voice. _

"_I swear I don't know!" cried Jameson pitifully. _

He knows, he knows... _whispered the blade. _

"_I know it that you know. Do I need to prove that I mean business? Diffindo." And Jameson screamed at the cut that appeared on his chest. "Am I being clear enough? No? Diffindo." Draco enjoyed the agony the bastard was in, a little too overjoyed at the prospect of the bastard suffering. "Ready to talk?" _

"_He said something about the alleys behind the old boarding houses. That's all I know, I swear it. I swear it!" _

Now kill him, he's not valuable anymore, _whispered the blade once more. The voice was soothing and Draco hadn't felt this relaxed in a long time. Not since he had slept in Granger's used sheets. His mind was spinning at the prospect. _He is filth, remove the filth, Draco, remove the filth...

_And for a moment, he was almost tempted to say the two little words that would take the vermin's life forever. It was with great effort that he instead summoned Potter and the Auror department to lock the fucker up instead. _

_Needless to say, the blade was not very happy with him. _

And now, hours later, he was staked out on the roof of an old, abandoned boarding house with a view of all of the back alleyways, his only company a murderous sword. The sun was hot on his back, but he didn't dare move from his perch to do anything about it. Cooling charms only did _so _much after all... But sunburn was a small price to pay if this lead panned out.

Except, it hadn't been panning out. No one had come this way, not even a homeless nobody or even a rat. Draco had been watching for _hours. _Yes, he could see the intricate web work of magic below him from this distance but he couldn't go down to see if the magical signature he was searching for was there. It was too risky to do something that stupid in daylight.

It was fucking uncomfortable, boring, and painful, but Draco thought that if he could persevere here, he could solve the case. After all, wasn't that the priority? Not his aching ribs, no.

But night fell and still no activity passed by him. Hours passed and all feeling in his limbs went away, but still he didn't move. Eventually, it was the sword who convinced him to go down and at least see what evidence he could find.

Unfortunately, what neither he nor the sword could anticipate were the layers upon layers of residual magic that had built up here for the past century or so. Magic never truly _died, _but when it did fade it took hundreds of years to do so. But in this kind of area, where the most weak and desolate came, magic was _rampant _and a lot of it was dark.

Analyzing every spell in every alleyway they passed whilst also looking over his shoulder for murderers and clues quickly turned out to be the most strenuous task he had ever done. And the sword wasn't exactly all that pleased with him to begin with. The thing could be positively _snarky. _

Eventually, they reached a street where the magic seemed to be the most recent, the darkest he had recognized thus far, and the most layered. His eyes were swimming and his head spun. He was bloody tired and he guessed he'd have to call it a quits after this street because he just couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

That was until his eyes fell on _the _magical signature. It was subtle, and he was surprised he hadn't missed it, but when he really looked around it was bloody _everywhere! _

The sheer number of spells that had been cast by one person in the alleyway in such a short amount of time surprised Draco. It almost looked like a corridor in Hogwarts! Draco found almost everything in that little alleyway. Protective charms, anti-apparation wards, dark magic, blood rituals...

He had found the alleyway Blaise had been murdered in. He was sure of it. Within ten minutes, he had found the door that Blaise had sent a scan of via Patronus and his heart nearly skipped a beat. He had found it! He had finally done it. The children were just behind this door and when he got through, the case would be solved. All he had to do was find a way to get through all of the spells on the door, some of which he still didn't understand. The Department of Mysteries had yet to get back to him.

He stood there a few moments, debating whether or not he ought to call on Potter when a rustle startled him. His first instinct was to disillusion himself, but knew he ought to not risk it. Someone with this much expertise in magic would surely sense it in a second. Instead, Draco hid himself in a nook in the wall.

The oddest pair Draco had ever laid eyes on rounded the corner. One enormously tall bearded man and another quite stout, but also bearded. Their stomachs were both distended the exact same amount and they were both quite dirty looking. They each at six fingers on their left hand. _Freaky fucking twins if you ask me. _

_Concentrate, you imbecile! These are the people who killed Blaise. _

_Chill out, Granger. I'm paying attention. _

He almost had to shake his head. Now was not the time to be talking to himself. She was right though, his mental conscience, these men had killed Blaise and as such, he ought not to underestimate them. But for some reason, that assessment didn't sit right with him. Blaise was quite crafty with his wand when he needed to be. These two men looked like buffoons. Something was missing from the equation...

The answer became as plain as day when something pushed him out of his hiding spot. He fell painfully to his knees, probably shattering something on the cobblestone judging from the snapping sound and immense pain. But he forced himself to keep rolling and into a crouching position with his back to the wall and his eyes on his three enemies.

When he looked up he found a man with his hood still up coming out of the nook that Draco had been hiding in. Except, it wasn't a nook, it was a door. Draco felt stupid, really. He ought to have been smarter about it. But he was tired and the day of scouting had just ruined his senses.

"Looking for something, Mr. Malfoy?" said the cloaked, man. The voice was smooth, almost humorous. It made Draco's blood boil.

"I'm looking for a murderer. Seen any around here?" he quipped back, getting painfully to his feet. He was right. He had broken something or another.

_It is him. It his him! It is him! IT IS HIM. IT IS HIM! IT IS HIM... _

The sword was literally screaming in his ear and Draco wished it would stop because he got the fucking point already. He had found the kidnapper, had probably walked right into his trap. If Draco didn't know any better, he'd have said Jameson had set him up. But Jameson didn't have half a brain, so it had probably been blackmail. Or perhaps he had accidently tripped a ward in his search...

"I see your mind is churning up answers, Mr. Malfoy," said the man, calmly. He raised his hand and Draco never knew what hit him. He was simultaneously thrown back painfully against the wall while his wand soared away from him. How the hell had the fucker done that without a wand? "Yes, as I'm sure you've realized, I'm very proficient in the use of magic. Would you care to learn?"

Draco was dropped face first into the stone alleyway. He felt his nose crack and probably got a concussion from it. The pain was almost _blinding _but Draco knew that if he wanted to get out of here alive, he'd have to stay conscious. He needed to stay conscious or he was going to be a dead man.

But even that determination didn't prepare him to be lifted three feet in the air and dropped brutally. When his leg snapped awkwardly again, he couldn't stop himself from yelling out. The three men only laughed among themselves as the kidnapper lifted him up repeatedly only to drop him again, crushing his body to the stone floor. He assumed that they'd gotten bored with him when kidnapper began to talk to his lackeys, probably to give instructions.

This was going to be his only chance, he knew, so he had to force himself to move his arms, regardless of the immense amount of pain he was in. He reached back and forced himself to pull the sword out of its sheath and managed to get to his knees without crying out in pain. It was the hardest thing he'd ever done. Ever.

_You can cut his magic, cut it! Cut it! _screamed the sword. But Draco knew he didn't have the energy to get that close to the man. He knew if he even tried to move that close, the man would just pick him up and drop him again. And then Draco knew he would die. _Cut it! _

_Tell me how to cut through the wards, _Draco said to the sword, hoping the connection worked both ways. _Tell me, or we both are dead. _

_Cut him! Cut him! CUT HIM! _the sword was still shouting.

Draco started to panic. _Tell me how to cut the wards! I need to know how to cut the wards so we can escape! _

_Take his magic! Drain him, cut him! _

Draco almost cried at the effort of sitting up. His head was swimming and he'd lost a lot of blood, broken way too many bones to be sitting up and holding a sword. _TELL ME HOW TO CUT THE FUCKING WARDS OR I WILL PERSONALLY DESTROY YOU, YOU MOTHERFUCKING USELESS BLADE! _

All was silent for a moment except for the three men who were now moving something that looked curiously like a little body through the door that Draco had just been standing in front of not ten minutes ago. He realized that they probably thought he was dead and he guessed that this was going to work to his advantage. He personally didn't know how he had survived either, but he wasn't questioning it.

_Up, left, swish, right, _finally came the response of the sword and he nearly cried out in relief. It didn't strike him odd at the moment that a sword had talked back to him and had inadvertently saved his life. He was just concentrating on cutting the wards and apparating the fuck out of there.

The last thing he saw before he apparated out of there were his violators shocked faces and he couldn't help but grin at the prospect. Apparating was painful as fuck with all the broken bones, but when he saw Granger's face pale at the sight of him and scream, he knew he'd be alright.

Because if Hermione Granger was there, everything would be okay.

/

When Hugo woke up, he was a disoriented and his shoulder felt like it was on fire. He was so sore that he couldn't even get up immediately. His back cracked when he made to sit up and he had to stretch out his painfully stiff muscles. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, Hugo nearly screamed.

He was sitting in a little cage with metal bars.

Soon, he couldn't hold the tears back and let them overflow. He would never escape now. He would never help the others escape now, either! They were trapped in cages, separated and alone. He couldn't even hug the blonde girl now. What was he going to do? What was he going to tell mum...

Was he ever going to see his mum again?

Probably not. He had failed. He had failed himself, his mum, and everyone! There was no hope for him now, not now that he had lost the opportunity to escape. He began to truly sob, then, as the realization of his doom hit him. There was nothing more to do about it. He'd just have to accept the fact that he was stuck here forever until the crazy man killed them.

"Don't cry, love," came a little voice. He looked around him to find that the blonde girl was in the cage next to his. He stuck his little arms through the bars but she immediately started to shake her head. "Don't do that. You'll get burned."

He had no idea what she was talking about and began to think that she was really crazy. Burned? There was nothing there to burn him. Did she just not want to comfort him anymore? But before he could even think of anything else, a door was opened and the man he had started to despise so much walked through, grinning happily at them.

He was dragging another unconscious boy, whom he put into a spare cage next to Hugo's. He waved at them cheerily before walking out the huge metal door. Hugo heard a click and knew that the man had locked the door behind him.

Then, flames burst around them.

Many of the children screamed and cried as the flames licked at their cages. Many even passed out from the heat, but Hugo didn't understand why. It wasn't too hot and the flames barely approached his cage. He couldn't see any of the other children due to his cage being engulfed in flames, but he knew that they weren't in the same situation as he was. He could smell things _burning. _

Then he immediately realized he was doing magic to protect himself but some of the others hadn't managed.

He realized the blonde girl was right all along, that the man was preparing them to take their magic. Was this some kind of demented test, then? It didn't matter to Hugo because his friends were being hurt and now he could do nothing about it.

All he could do was sit there and cry.


	13. It's a Love Hate Relationship

**Chapter Thirteen: It's a Love Hate Relationship **

There was so much blood!

Hermione hadn't seen _this _much blood since the final battle at Hogwarts and she had always hoped that she would never have to relive something like that ever again. Nevertheless, when Draco apparated into his bedroom literally dripping blood, she had automatically rushed forward to catch his falling body.

They had collapsed to the floor and Hermione had nearly let out a sob, staring at his condition. It was obvious that he had broken several bones in his legs, judging by the way they were awkwardly bent. Opening his shirt, she could see he had severely broken several of his ribs, the bone literally poking out in some places. His knees were shattered, his nose was broken, and each eye was swollen shut. Several lacerations marked his chest and legs. She realized he'd dislocated his shoulder and shattered his collarbone.

She had no idea how he was even breathing.

She yelled for the elf to fetch a medi-wizard from St. Mungos, which sent the elf running, tears streaming down its little face. In the meanwhile, Hermione had to make herself focus. She had to keep Malfoy breathing just until someone from St. Mungos could come and help them. It was all up to her.

But gods, she was about to go into full panic mode!

She remembered the procedures from all of the healing books she'd read and tried to methodically apply them. The first step was always to cast a _Stasis Charm _so that no splintered bones could puncture vital organs. Yes. She'd done that. Step two...step two...step two... God, Malfoy was going to die and it was all going to be her goddamn fault! Why couldn't she remember step two?

_Check for internal bleeding, _the voice in her head provided for her. She thoughtlessly followed the advice, hope blooming in her chest. She _could _remember how to do this properly. She cast the diagnostic spell that she vaguely remembered reading about in the Hogwarts library and four spots on Malfoy's body started to glow a bright shade of blue.

Alright. So he had internal bleeding. Where the fuck were the healers? Right. So she had to stop the internal bleeding... Why the hell were they taking so long, anyways? Something to do with stopping the spread before it increased to an unmanageable state. Didn't they know that a man's life was on the line?

Draco groaned in her arms and she automatically held him closer, panic rising deep in her chest.

"It's okay, Malfoy. They're coming, I swear. I sent your house elf. You just need to breathe, alright? Breathe," she frantically whispered to him.

But all he did was groan and try to shift in her lap.

The moment the elf burst through the door followed by four healers, Hermione burst into tears. She had never been more relieved in her life! She had never been put in a situation where her mind had just clammed up like that, where she'd just been rendered useless. She was glad the healers were there now or Malfoy surely would've died, especially under her inept care. She had no idea what had come over her.

When the healers tried to get Malfoy out of her lap, he would groan and only clutch at her arms harder. So she did what she could, helped the healers stop him from moving around too much, and filled them in on what she had gathered of his injuries. In the end, it had taken seven blood replenishing potions, an entire bottle of skelegrow (which he hadn't taken willingly), and a multitude of stabilizing potions for Draco to be deemed alright enough to be put in bed.

It had taken five hours of continuous work, and crying on Hermione's part, to keep the man alive.

She knew that he needed his rest now, especially for his bones to fix themselves, but all she wanted him to do was wake up and tell her he was alright in that confident, arrogant way of his. She needed to know what it was that had attacked him, put him in such a horrific condition. She needed to know if this was what awaited Hugo.

When the healers levitated Draco into his bed, Hermione willingly went with him without the encouragement of the healers. She had learned in the past five hours that if she thought of letting go of him, he'd start groaning and reaching out for her. It was best to let him rest peacefully. The elf whose name she had forgotten, led the healers out after Hermione had thanked them.

She perched herself next to her childhood enemy in his bed. It was a very surreal situation, to be honest. If someone had told her a few weeks ago that she'd willingly be lying next to a sleeping Draco Malfoy, she would've dismissed them without a second glance.

But now, she couldn't think of any other place she _should _be.

If there was one thing that Hermione knew she should be doing, it was fulfilling the needs of the man that lay snuggled against her. Because in all reality, he really was doing the world for her. He didn't _need _to go look for her son, didn't need to keep her safe by keeping her in his house (she had overheard him telling Harry exactly that a few hours previous). But he was and now he was going to be scarred.

The healers had tried their utmost to prevent scarring from the cuts that had been made onto his torso, but they had failed. He would have thin, ropey scars marring his perfect chest for the rest of his life and it was all because of her, she knew.

She was glad that he was going to live, she suddenly realized. Not just because he _would _find her son (of that she was sure, if he was willing to go to such lengths and come back alive) but because he _deserved _to live. He was nothing like the boy she remembered from school. Sure, he was still sometimes mean and definitely arrogant, but he was also refined, graceful, and...

Dare she say it?

Hermione quite liked him because it seemed like he _cared. _Not in the ways that all of her friends did, everyone in Gryffindor had, the way her parents had for her. He was nothing like that. He was subtle and when he showed emotion – it was _explosive. _

She traced her fingertips over his face, tracing his unnaturally pale, aristocratic features. Even with the dark circles from exhaustion under his eyes and the still fading bruises, he was quite beautiful. His hair was silky between her fingers and it seemed that he liked being petted because he relaxed right into her. She almost smiled at the action. When he pressed his head into the crook of her neck and let out a sigh of contentment, Hermione thought she might just die.

Yes, she wanted him to live and not just to save her son, but also because she just might like him a little more than appropriate.

/

Hugo couldn't exactly place the smell. It was a mixture between burnt plastic, hair, and the time when Manny had accidently left dinner cooking on the stove too long. Whatever the case, the smell was absolutely horrid and Hugo thought he would die breathing in the stench alone.

The man had them sitting in their metal cages surrounded by fires for hours.

Hugo had no idea _why _the man would do something so... silly. Maybe the man just hated them and wanted them to be hurt and in pain. Hugo didn't know or care either way. He was just pissed off that he was still stuck in this situation in the first place. If only he had opened the door...

_If only he hadn't talked to strangers when they called... _

But that was all in the past.

He had to focus on the present, he realized. He could only solve the problems of today, not change yesterday. But he would love to have a time turner. He'd read all about them in his mother's books. If he had a time turner, boy would things be different! He'd go back and tell Uncle Harry about the evil man and Uncle Harry surely would lock the man up. Uncle Harry was an Auror. Hugo had read that Aurors caught bad wizards.

Regardless, Hugo knew he was in an unpleasant situation. The fire had burned around him and the others for hours so that he now sat in a puddle of his own sweat. It was quite disgusting if Hugo was being honest with himself, and more than just a little uncomfortable. He longed to take a shower. Longed for a cup of water at least.

The children that had screamed at first from the fire surrounding their cages, had eventually either given up or passed out from the heat. Hugo didn't blame them. It was really, really, really hot, and sitting in a metal cage wasn't helping matters.

But at least the fire didn't burn any of them.

Well, at least the fire hadn't burned _him. _He couldn't see any of the others over the flames, couldn't see the blonde girl in the cage next to him. He could barely even see his own cage with the fire that surrounded it. But Hugo knew that if the fire were to come any closer, he'd have definitely been burnt to a crisp.

He cringed to think of such a thing but now he knew it was entirely possible. If the man had killed their friend so easily, had called him _disposable, _then Hugo knew he was just as disposable and that the man wouldn't hesitate making dinner out of him. Hugo wondered if it would hurt very much to be cooked. He immediately decided he really didn't want to find out.

Eventually, the man came back and when he spoke to the children, he really seemed exasperated. Hugo felt irritated at the man. What right did _he _have to be exasperated when it was Hugo and the other children sitting in metal cages with fires burning all around them? It was uncomfortable, hot, and sweaty! The man had no need to be irritated. It was his fault that they were in this kind of situation, anyways!

"Have you lot no sense of self preservation?" the man nearly snapped. Hugo wanted to respond but refrained from doing so. "Put out the fire, you idiots!"

Hugo didn't know whether he ought to laugh or cry. How was Hugo supposed to put out the fire without any water? Was the man just silly or was he going crazier by the hour? Anyhow, he had no clue how to go about such an impossible task. All he knew was that the man had obviously put the fires up to test them somehow. Test them on something...

Then memories flooded his head.

Of course they were being tested! The man wanted to take their magic away. The little blonde girl had told him so, had told him over and over again. How could he have forgotten? Hugo knew that if he didn't put out the fires, the man would think he had no magic. Hugo knew he _did _have magic, he'd done it himself, after all. But if he showed the man that he could do magic, the man would take it away and Hugo really didn't want that to happen.

But perhaps it would buy him some much needed time.

Yes, maybe it'd do that. Hugo did need some time to come up with a new plan, after all. Maybe if he put out the fire somehow, then the man would put them all back into their little cellar. And then Hugo could open the door and they could all escape.

Or maybe the man would take his magic and then kill him.

Either way, Hugo was decided. Sitting in his own puddle of sweat and tears was not a fun place to be. Even if he was being kidnapped, he shouldn't have to go through something so icky. And they _did _need to buy some time. Maybe there would be more tests, more fires after this one. The man was crazy, after all. Hugo was counting on it.

The only problem was that Hugo had no idea how to put a fire out with magic. Come to think of it, Hugo didn't even know how to put fires out _without _magic. But that wasn't something he should think about. One problem at a time was more than enough to think about.

He was starting to get really itchy. What if he was developing a rash from all the sweat? That would just put a damper on all of his plans, really... But he knew he was getting ahead of himself. Just because he could open a door, didn't mean he was going to escape. In fact, it wasn't even a guarantee. Hugo almost felt stupid for even thinking like that.

But he was getting off track. Right now he had to focus on the fire and putting it out, _nothing else! _He told his mind that and his mind told him alright. They could work on it together now without any distractions, just like he'd worked on reading through those seven encyclopaedias.

Yes, he could do this.

Could he really do this?

_You have to. _

So he concentrated, just like he had concentrated on the door. Nothing happened for minutes on end. He could hear the man pacing the room, yelling at them to put the fires out or they'd all suffer the consequences. It made Hugo angry. Who was he to tell them what to do after all he'd done to them? It made Hugo want to jump on the man and beat him with his own stick.

The fires started to dim and Hugo almost gasped in shock. It had worked! Hugo had made the fires go down! Even if it was just a little bit, it still surprised Hugo that he had magic at all. Hugo had always believed that magic came when one went to Hogwarts because then one would get to have their own magic wand. How else were you supposed to do magic?

It was obvious now that he could do magic if he would really, really concentrate hard.

So that's what he did. He concentrated until he thought his head would explode. The fires slowly abated, so slowly that Hugo thought he'd lose his breath before they were completely gone.

By the time they were just a little flame, Hugo was completely exhausted and could do no more. Instead, he lay on the floor of his overheated cage and panted heavily. This would have to do. The man would have to be happy with his efforts because there was no way Hugo could do anything more than this. But if the man beat him with his stick, Hugo knew that he'd try to punch the man, and he really didn't want to die today...

But it appeared as if Hugo had been worrying for nothing, because the man was jumping up and down and clapping excitedly at Hugo's progress and Hugo almost wanted to smile. He would have smiled at the man's excitement if the man wasn't such a nasty, old, evil troll. Hugo almost wished that the man would drop dead right there.

But no such thing happened. The man left them alone in the room.

Looking around, Hugo found the blank little girl staring at him from inside the cage next to him on the left. There were absolutely no flames around her cage, not even little ones like the ones around Hugo's. So it was obvious that the girl knew how to do some magic too and it was obvious that she was better at it than Hugo was.

It seemed that the other children weren't, though, because four of the cages were still engulfed in pillars of flame. Hugo knew that he should help, but he was too tired to even concentrate on making an escape plan, let alone putting out another fire. He had to hope that the other children would catch on and do what he had done. He couldn't see them behind their respective fires.

It seemed like they were all going to be okay, at least that was the thought in his head until he turned to the right to see the progress of the last boy that had been brought in.

Hugo immediately screamed, wishing he hadn't.

While there were no flames surrounding the cage of the new boy, nothing at all, the boy had been burnt to a crisp. All Hugo could see were wide open, bright blue eyes and a charred body.

He promptly turned away and threw up.

/

When Hermione woke up, she felt like she was well rested. She hadn't felt this way since well before Ron had died and it surprised her to feel this way now. In fact, she didn't want to open her eyes. She wanted to pretend that everything was normal, that Hugo was in her bed, and that she worked a job that didn't require such long hours.

She was more than content to just pretend. She could hide until they found her son – or until she was brave enough to face the world, at least. Until then, she'd just...stay here. Wherever here was, it was bloody comfortable.

That is until "here" started moving against her.

Her eyes snapped open and she attempted to bolt straight up in bed, but the pair of arms that were around her stopped her from doing so. She heard a groan from next to her and something muttered unintelligibly. When she looked down, she found a messy head of blonde hair tucked neatly against her.

Then she remembered. Malfoy had come home half dead. Malfoy had had to be saved by healers. His injuries...his _blood, _Gods his blood. She looked up past his head to the floor where they'd worked on his body. It seemed the elf must have cast a _Scourgify, _thank God. She didn't want to be reminded of the fact that he had nearly died in her arms. What would she have done then?

But what the hell was she doing now?

This was completely inappropriate, lying in bed with Draco Malfoy of all people. It was completely unprofessional for one thing and just plain wrong on principle for another. He was a Malfoy and she was a Granger/Weasley – people he despised. Just because he was hurt didn't mean she could... what? Soothe him? Did she even _want _to soothe him?

She didn't give herself the time to answer the question. Instead, she tried to pry his arms open and wriggle her way out of bed, but he did not relent. In fact, all he did was groan and hold her closer like a needy little boy. It was endearing and more than a little creepy. Malfoy being endearing? Hell had definitely frozen over somewhere.

Eventually, he cracked open an eye and glared at her. "Stop _moving!" _he hissed. "I'm trying to sleep and you're hurting me."

She immediately froze with panicked eyes. "Where does it hurt? What can I do? The healers told me to contact them immediately if you felt any pain... Are the potions wearing off? I can get you some, just-"

He groaned and she immediately shut up. "Did anyone ever tell you that you talk too much, Granger?" he asked and buried his head against her once again. She found the action extremely weird, but didn't say anything. He _was _on a billion potions. They must have been messing with his judgement.

"Yes, I vaguely remember a bratty little blond boy saying something along the lines..." she muttered quietly. He laughed and then immediately started coughing. All she could do was rub his back and wait for it all to subside. He only pressed closer to her. She found the action almost comforting, that someone like Malfoy needed her for help. "Are you okay?" she finally asked.

He raised his head and gave her a quizzical look. "Do I look okay, darling?" She rolled her eyes and he almost grinned, but she could tell that despite the pain potions he was on, it was an effort. "No. They got me pretty bad. Was a trap...shoulda known..."

But before she could ask him what he was talking about, he had rested his head back into the crook of her neck and fallen blissfully asleep.

There was nothing else to do but follow his example.

/

Many hours later after Hermione had given him a new batch of potions, she finally managed to escape his arms. She almost felt violated, but it wasn't even in a bad way if that made any sense at all. Her mind really didn't make any sense at all, she could tell. Beyond that, she knew she was flailing and hoping to land somewhere that she could actually _understand. _

Because _this_, this really wasn't something she could understand.

So she did what she did best. Avoided thinking about the subject and immersing herself in studying the Auror investigation files Malfoy had so thoughtfully nicked for her. Apparently, Malfoy had been the one that had found some sort of lead, the updated files said. She could read Harry's messy scrawl and noted the automatic update time that all the files had.

She realized she must be holding Malfoy's Auror copy file of the case. Harry, since he was head of the investigation and head of the Auror department, had the master file. Anything updated in the master file would automatically be updated in all of the other copies. It was quite a nifty little invention, actually.

Malfoy must have found something important then. But he had told her that it had been a trap. So did the kidnappers know that they were searching for them? Well, that much was obvious, she figured. But did that mean Hugo was already dead? It almost killed her to think it.

She was suddenly startled by a loud shriek noise coming from Draco's room.

Thoughtlessly, she bounded towards the room, thinking that he might've been hurt or something terrible must have happened. But when she stopped in front of the door that stood slightly ajar, she found Draco tickling his son who was shrieking quite loudly. The sight melted her heart.

"PAPA! STOP!" the boy laughed.

"Not until you say sorry!" Malfoy chuckled. His face still had a few bruises that were healing, but the wide smile on his face completely distracted her from them. He seemed happy, almost. Carefree. She had to stop breathing for a second.

"I'm sorry! Sorry! I won't do it again!" the boy said at an incredibly high pitched voice that Hermione almost giggled. Malfoy stopped and kissed his son on the cheek before letting him go. But surprisingly, the boy didn't run away. Instead he started to jump on the bed. "Sorry, papa. I lied."

"Why you little rascal!"

And so the catching and tickling of Scorpius Malfoy ensued with a whole bunch of loud shouts, giggles, and laughs. It made Hermione smile to see Malfoy interacting with his son like that. It made her feel like... well, maybe Malfoy wasn't all that bad a father after all. It was obvious that he loved his son. And she knew from experience that Scorpius was an absolute _doll. _

What had Astoria ever been afraid of? Draco adored his son. It was as obvious as the sun being out in the day.

She had to admit though; this affectionate, loving side of Malfoy was goddamn attractive.


	14. Quicker than Air

**Chapter Fourteen: Quicker than Air**

Eventually, the fires burnt themselves out. Whether it was through magic on the kids' part, magic on the part of the man, or just the force of nature, but eventually there were simply no more fires plaguing the children.

Only Hugo, the blonde girl, and another dark haired boy had managed to put their own fires out. The man had been very, very happy with them for that. Hugo, the blondie, and the other boy had been given heaps of the porridge and they had been told to finish it all. Hugo didn't question the man's authority. He didn't want to find out what consequences came along with disobeying the man. So he ate. The others ate too.

The children that hadn't managed to put out their respective fires were still fed. After all, they had managed not to get burned and that was something, at least. The one child that hadn't managed to save himself had burnt to a crisp. But the other children were only given scraps. At the very least scraps were better than nothing.

Scraps were better than being dead.

There were three things that they all knew now. One, they all had some form of magic, some more advanced at it than others. Two, the man was about to take away their magic somehow, and it was going to be very, very painful. Three, they were all going to die if they didn't do something about it now.

Hugo was beyond believing in miracles. He knew that if someone was going to come save him, it should have happened by now. And if they came now, it would be when it was already too late. If a rescue really was going to happen, two of his friends wouldn't be dead now. And they were very dead. Deader than Hugo ever thought was possible. So any hopes that Hugo might have had for his mother, uncle Harry, Granny Molly, or anyone at all coming to save him was completely nil now.

In other words, Hugo knew that no one was coming for him. He knew that if he wanted to get out of this mess, if anyone wanted to get out of this mess, he'd have to do it himself.

The truth was, no one else seemed to be thinking of how to get out of this situation that they were in. He knew that they could all do magic now – they all were aware of this fact to some extent. Hugo knew blondie was aware of what was going on, at least. But she didn't seem to be putting any serious thought towards escaping. Even the other boy who had managed to put out his fire... even he didn't seem to care that he could help escape. All the children would do was sit and cry in their cages.

It made Hugo sad. It was all up to him now.

Either way, it really didn't matter. Escaping was all that Hugo could think about, night and day. The few meagre hours of sleep that Hugo did manage to get found his dreams always filled with plans and escape methods that were nonsensical at best.

But at least they were something.

Hugo didn't know exactly what he was going to do just yet, but he was working really hard on it, that much was for certain. He just needed to work out the finer details and a few kinks before he risked whispering his plans to the other children.

He really didn't want to risk the man hearing such things. They would certainly get into a lot of trouble for even thinking about it, let alone share thoughts like that with each other.

But when the man opened the door and walked in with a grim smile on his face, Hugo wished that he had told the other children anyway. Just in case that this was the moment that they would need an escape plan – just in case that this was the moment that the man would try to take away their magic and kill them.

It was obviously too late for that now, but Hugo was willing to improvise. He would just have to make it up as he went along. That was also fine... it would just have to work. If it didn't, they were all pretty much dead.

The man, however, didn't seem to want to do anything but stare at them. Hugo sat still and concentrated anyways. He could see out of the corner of his eye that all six other children held similar stances.

Suddenly, a torrent of water started pouring over their cages, right over their heads, drenching them to their skins. Hugo hadn't been expecting such a shock, and as a result he had no idea what to do. He had been waiting for the man to try to kill them like he'd killed the other boy with all the strange muttering and such, not trying to give them a bath!

All he _could _do at the moment was swim to the surface of the water, slightly panicking as he did so. Of course he knew how to swim. His mother had taught him when they'd gone to the beach last year. The other children seemed to have the same idea, as well – swimming to the surface of the rapidly pooling water.

They all seemed to be fine for the moment, but Hugo knew that the moment wouldn't last very long. The water was pooling quickly into their cages with no sign of stopping. Soon, the water would be to the very top of their cages and they would no longer be able to breathe.

His mind began to race.

There wasn't much he could do for himself or the others at this point. They were well and truly trapped now. The water was fast approaching the top of the cage and then his time would be up. It was only a matter of seconds now...

He looked to his side and once again found the blonde girl floating and smiling at him. He wondered why she was smiling – how could she smile at a time like this? They were about to be drowned to death! But somehow, he felt like it'd be fine. She knew what was going on, of course, and if she was encouraging him, then she definitely knew it was all going to be alright.

At least, that's what he told himself when taking a last hug gulp of air as the water completely immersed him from head to toe. He closed his eyes and tried his best not to breathe.

_It's alright, it's alright, it's alright... _

After a few seconds his lungs started to burn from the ache of not being able to breathe. He squeezed his eyes shut tighter to stop himself from giving into the urge, but he couldn't help it. A stream of bubbles left his mouth as he let out his breath.

His eyes snapped open. All he could take in at that moment was the man staring at them curiously. He couldn't stop the surge of anger that spread in his chest, filling him to his very core. How dare the man do this to them? If he was going to take their magic, he need not torture them! He'd made his poor blonde friend crazy. He'd starved them, made them live in a dungeon, _killed _some of them...

And the feeling in his little chest only grew as he stared at the man staring at them. Hugo felt his face redden in that familiar way, his already constricted breath completely leaving him, and his head feeling like it would explode at any second now. But still, his anger grew further. It got to a point where Hugo could tell he was literally glaring at the man, but the man seemed unfazed. Perhaps the man couldn't see how angry Hugo was. Perhaps the man had no idea that he was Hugo Weasley.

He could see from his place in his cage that one of the little girls was frantically clawing, trying to escape. Her eyes were beginning to roll back into her head and her skin was a peculiar shade of blue. The sight of the man staring at her so placidly, so _calmly, _just did it for Hugo. He burst.

Letting out a high pitched scream, Hugo finally let it all out.

The effect was immediate. The water that had filled their cages exploded, showering the man sharply in the form of blades. The water had cut and bruised him, but he didn't seem to notice it at all. Instead, he stood there clapping gleefully at the fact that they, or more accurately _Hugo_, had managed to save themselves from the water torture he had put them in.

He brought them all porridge, heaps and heaps of porridge, telling them to eat up and stay strong for what he had planned next for them. He assured them that their next surprise would be much, much more fun that playing in the water and that they would enjoy it immensely.

Hugo didn't plan to stick around for that long.

When the man had finally left them alone to go do whatever it was that he did when he wasn't here torturing them, Hugo whispered his fully formed plan to the blonde girl next to him, who then whispered it to the boy in the cage next to her, who passed it on. Soon, they were all brimming with the prospect of escaping this treacherous hell hole. But they knew instinctively that not all of them would make it out alive.

It was a risk that they were willing to take.

/

When Draco finally woke up, he felt completely groggy. He had no idea what he was doing in bed when he was supposed to be out there, completing his assignment. Like hell! Perhaps he had come home and collapsed or something. His bones ached, his throat was dry and scratchy, and he felt like he'd been run over by a dozen violent hippogriffs. Well, hippogriffs were _always _violent – so that metaphor didn't quite need that much elaboration.

Fucking, hippogriffs. Couldn't leave him alone in his thoughts, even, could they.

When he sat up tiredly in bed and stretched, he couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips. He was tired _and _in pain. What had he done, slept on a bed of knives? Judging the way his life was going these days, he really didn't doubt it. Maybe he had tried to commit suicide.

Yeah, that would explain it.

Trying to untangle himself from the sheets was a task harder than he had anticipated and it was accompanied by loud cursing and death threats that he didn't know he was capable of at that hour of the morning. Why wouldn't his limbs cooperate with him for once? What had he ever done to his body besides drinking, chasing dark wizards, spending too much time at work, not eating, not sleeping, and not having sex? Well, alright. That would explain it all.

_Okay, body. I give you free reign to hate me, fucking useless piece of crap! _

His mental conversations with himself were never really pleasant. They normally included some kind of self berating, death threats, snarky sarcastic comments, and observations he really wish he hadn't made. It was as if Draco had two personalities, one that he displayed for everyone else, and the one that lived inside his head that told him he was a dumb arse, but a very _handsome and charming _dumb arse. It was a win-win situation.

Finally, grumbling and giving up getting out of bed, he tried rolling over and falling back to sleep. It didn't matter if he didn't show up to work. He had people who would do it for him and he was sure he had updated everyone about everything he knew. And then there was Potter. Yes, Potter wouldn't begrudge him if he took a short ten hour nap, right?

He had almost fallen back to sleep when something began moving under his sheets.

At first, Draco thought he was completely imagining it, because why would there be anything under his sheets, holding him down to the bed? Then Draco realized he was probably going crazy, because there really were no such things as monsters under ones sheets to hold one down to the bed. A few seconds later, the realization passed through his head that he was probably drugged and imagining it all because of that – hallucinations and nothing more.

That was until the "monster" started sniffing and Draco _knew _for a fact that he was completely lucid. So Draco did what he thought was the most appropriate thing to do. He screamed. Like a five year old girl.

A very high pitched five year old girl.

Several things happened simultaneously. The monster that was holding him down by the legs to his bed also screamed, Hermione Granger burst through the door in alarm, and Missy the house elf popped into existence out of thin air.

Needless to say, Draco was more than startled.

"What the hell is going on?" Hermione asked, her eyes wide.

He stared at her, intending to tell her exactly _what _the hell was going on until he realized what he actually was staring at. She was dressed in a loose white shirt that came just past mid thigh. It hung off one shoulder, exposing her milky skin. It was clear that he'd roused her from sleep. Who knew Granger looked so fuckable in her sleep attire? Her hair was a mess and Draco didn't think he'd ever seen anything more attractive.

"Master Draco?" the elf questioned tentatively.

That startled him out of his train of thoughts and he could feel himself flushing. He found three pairs of eyes staring at him concernedly. Well, two pairs of eyes staring at him in concern and the third just pure fear. He realized then that he was staring at a very pale blonde head staring at him from his lap, the rest of the little body covered by his sheets. So alright, he'd overreacted. Scorpius was no more a monster than the house elf was...

"Draco?" Hermione asked once again, taking a step forward. "What's wrong? Are you in pain?" She seemed really worried at the prospect.

"Why would I be in pain?" he asked distractedly, pulling Scorpius up to sit beside him and completely missing Granger's confused expression. "What's wrong, little monkey?" he asked Scorpius who gave him a small scared looking smile. "Did papa scare you?" Scorpius nodded. "Well, I am very, very sorry, but you should not have been lurking and scaring me." And with that, he kissed Scorpius on the nose, who giggled, and gestured for the elf to take the boy away.

A silence followed and Draco resented that. Why was he always falling into a silence around Granger, anyways? Why was _she _falling into a silence around him? He knew Granger and he knew her inability to shut her trap for even a second. So why wouldn't she just act like she normally would?

_Because she's staying in your house while you occasionally bully her. Oh and yeah, some psychopath has stolen her son away. _

Right, there was that.

When he looked up he found her staring at him cautiously, as if he was going to jump out and yell BOO right in her ear. He raised a brow at her and she blushed red. "What are you staring at?" he questioned, simply out of curiosity. He wondered if he looked like shit. Then he wondered why he even cared. It was only Granger, after all. She'd seen him worse.

"Um... do you not remember...anything?" she asked tentatively. The question confused him more than it should have and that should have been his clue to realize that something was really wrong. But because he was an idiot, a very _tired _idiot, he just shrugged and shook his head.

"Should I know what you're talking about?" he asked, a little bit of his normal sarcasm colouring his words.

"You apparated here last night and had an extensive amount of injuries. You've been asleep ever since. Or, at least until you woke up to play with Scorpius," she amended. Well, that would explain why the little bugger had been asleep on his legs. She took a few steps closer, slowly, as if anticipating he would suddenly reach out and slice her throat. "Are you feeling better now...?"

"That depends," he yawned, stretching his sore arms above his head and grimacing. "How badly was I hurt? And how?"

"They were...extensive..." she said hesitantly.

"How extensive?"

"Six fractures in your legs, three snapped ribs, shattered knees, broken nose, cuts to your chest, here, here, and here," she said, gently outlining where the cuts might have been.

"Eh. Could've been worse," he said, shrugging.

She raised an eyebrow and continued. "Seven fractures to your skull, a severe concussion, internal bleeding, broken arm, dislocated shoulder, and ten broken fingers. Parts of your foot were completely crushed. I'm surprised you're awake at all, Malfoy, let alone alive!" Her chest was heaving and Draco really didn't want to be drawn to such an action, but he was male. He couldn't help it. "What the bloody hell happened to you?"

Draco shrugged again. "I'd tell you, but I don't remember. What else are you not telling me?"

"You clung to me like a baby for hours during and after the healers were here." She said it so bluntly, so emotionlessly, that Draco had no idea how to respond. Sure, she probably saw nothing wrong with it. He had been in a tremendous amount of pain, judging by the extent of his injuries, so it was all excusable... But hell, he wouldn't mind clinging to her right now and going back to sleep. She looked soft. "And you said something about a trap."

Oh.

"A trap?" He looked to her for confirmation and she just nodded.

What had he been doing before he fell asleep? Well, that was obvious; he'd been working on the case. But specifically, he couldn't really remember. His memory was hazy at best and he had to focus thoroughly to even get a sense of what his thoughts were trying to tell him. He could see Granger watching him think curiously, and he really didn't appreciate that. The pressure didn't help him concentrate.

"A trap. What else did I say?"

She was silent for a moment, visibly thinking. She had a very focused expression on her face, though she wasn't staring at anything in particular. She slowly began chewing on her bottom lip and Draco immediately felt a rush of heat to a part of his anatomy he just wanted to _ignore, _for Merlin's sake! "All you said was... 'They got me pretty bad. Was a trap, should have known', and then you fell asleep. I think... Yes, that sounds about right."

But why couldn't he remember? And who were "they"? It was all really too much of a confusing mess to think about and he didn't understand why he was thinking about it in the first place. He should be sleeping like a normal person, not conversing with Hermione Granger, no matter how easy that was to do. In fact, he found he kind of liked talking to Hermione.

Granger, not Hermione. And sleep! He liked sleep! Not talking...

Gods, he was such a sissy.

Then it hit him. If he had to be caught in a trap, he'd have to be working, right? Right, that was obvious. But if he had to be working, then he would surely have documented where he was going and what he was to be doing during a particular time. Right? Right. So really, all he had to do was look through his files and he would have some kind of answer. It was at least somewhere to start.

But where were his files? They would usually sit on his bedside table. "Where are my files?" he said to no one in particular.

"Your Auror copy?" Hermione asked.

He narrowed his eyes at her and she blushed though he had no idea why. "Yes...Why? Where is it? What did you do with it? Potter's going to kill me. He was against getting one for me in the first place! Tell me you haven't lost it, Granger, or I swear to God, I will-"

"Relax, I have it," she cut him off, getting out of bed and smoothing her inappropriate night-time attire down. "Are you always this hyper?" He glared at her, but she only smiled her small little sad smile.

"I'll have you know, I-"but his stomach grumbled loudly, cutting off whatever it was he was going to inform her of. "Am...very...hungry?"

She burst out laughing and made her way out of the room, promising she'd come back with some nourishment for his poor little stomach. He lay back against his pillows and realized that they still smelled of her, faintly, as if she'd only been here a few hours ago. The smell relaxed him and he was almost able to doze again.

/

Hermione was almost able to smile as she went to the kitchen and asked the house elf if there was any breakfast for Draco. She had learned quickly that she was not allowed to touch the stove, or really do anything for herself, if she didn't want to give the elf a panic attack. It wasn't as if the house elf was distressed by the fact that Hermione was trying to do work, no, the house elf didn't care _what _Hermione did. She just didn't want Hermione to touch her precious stuff.

And Hermione was fine with that, honestly. That was something she could respect.

Once she had a tray of eggs, bacon, and toast with morning coffee and Draco's Auror file, she made her slow way back to his room. The thing was, Hermione had never had much balance in her life. She wasn't _too _bad of a klutz, but there was a good reason besides her fear of heights that she didn't ever get on a broomstick. Paired with the fact that she was balancing a tray, coffee, and a file under her arm and going up three flights of stairs... The journey was really slow.

By the time she reached his room, Draco was fast asleep. She hadn't seen something so angelic since the last time she'd seen her son asleep in his bed. His hair, now clean of blood, lay in a perfect golden halo around his head. It was not too messy, but he didn't immaculately gel it back like he used to back in school. She preferred it like this...

He looked much healthier, almost back to normal for the amount of injuries he had sustained.

She laid the file and his breakfast onto his bedside table before brushing his hair back off his forehead. He looked beautiful like this. He didn't look stressed, didn't look like he had to put up a front or pretend for anyone. He looked utterly calm and relaxed, something Hermione wished she could have on a daily basis.

Suddenly, he leaned into her touch and groaned. She pulled her hand back as if she'd been burned. What the hell had she been thinking, touching him like that? She hadn't meant to, really... It had just happened out of its own accord. She hadn't planned it, hadn't really thought about what she was doing until he'd shifted.

Sighing, he rolled over onto his side, facing her. His eyes were still closed. "I don't want to go back to school, mum," he muttered.

"What?" Hermione said on reflex.

"The other kids are annoying...fucking Potter...get that hippogriff away from me..." he mumbled some other things, but her ear couldn't catch them. Hermione honestly didn't mean to laugh, really didn't want to just burst out laughing at his sleepy muttering, but that's exactly what she did. That was the funniest bloody thing she'd seen in Merlin knew how long! He startled awake but she wasn't able to stop laughing. He prodded her shoulder as if to determine she were really sane, but that only made her laugh even harder. "What the bloody fuck are you laughing at, Granger?"

"_Hippogriffs_!" she managed to choke out.

His cheeks flushed a little pink, but other than that he didn't display any indication of embarrassment. Eventually, she calmed down and simply had a goofy smile on her face, feeling better than she had in ages. It was as if a weight had been temporarily lifted from her chest and all thanks to Malfoy. It was simple really, but she could tell that she was beginning to rely on the man and that was never good.

She hadn't relied on anyone since Ron and that had turned out really poorly for her, hadn't it.

"I brought you your file," she told him after she had caught her breath again.

He reached for it and the coffee. She just watched him as he flipped open the file with one hand and began thumbing through the heavy parchment, occasionally sipping on the still hot coffee. He had an air of concentration around him. Looking at him like that, as if it were a private moment she shouldn't be staring at, it felt kind of... arousing, yes.

Malfoy as a whole was kind of arousing. He was definitely handsome and moaned like the devil, that much she knew and was already obvious. But he was kind when he let himself be, and he cared more than any individual she had ever known, including himself. It was just that, his way of caring was different. _He _was different. But beyond that, he was genuinely smart and funny. What else did someone want in a person?

Well, besides the fact that he hated her guts, saw her as that filthy mudblood he was roped into helping, and probably thought she was a joke. She knew she didn't actually seriously like him. She was just fixating because her mind wanted her to focus on something other than her son twenty four hours a day. It was probably a good thing Malfoy would never, ever return her affections because that would have been disastrous. They'd never manage to do anything at all.

_Besides have sex. He finds you attractive_, her mind told her.

Well, that was true. She knew that he did find her attractive on some level. She had caught the way he had stared at her chest and legs earlier, and it honestly just made her feel pretty, nothing more. But she also knew that Malfoy clearly wasn't in a happy marriage, meaning there was no sex there. He was also probably too busy with work to pursue a mistress of sorts.

So it was nothing at all and definitely nothing her mind should focus on. At least, that's what she was going to tell herself for the rest of her life, if need be.

His gasp and sputtering of coffee distracted her from her unnecessary thoughts. Immediately focusing on his expression, she realized he'd found something important. When he exclaimed a loud "Mother fucker!" she knew that whatever it was, wasn't good news. She just hoped it didn't affect the investigation... Malfoy had said he was being smart here, so she was just going to have to trust him.

"What happened?" she asked him quietly, hoping that he'd tell her and not kick her out of his room.

"Apparently, I was in the alley behind the rundown boarding houses in Skull Pile the day I got attacked." She had absolutely no idea what Skull Pile was or what old rundown boarding houses had to do with any of it. But it must have been important to him. "Son of a bitch!"

"What's wrong, Draco?" she asked.

"I can't remember it, I don't know what I was doing there," he said in a groan. He bent down and clutched his head in his hands. The posture was one of such defeat and pain that Hermione almost felt her heart break – that is, if there were any of it left to be broken. "I just, I can't think," he muttered to her.

Well, if they were going to get anywhere, he would have to think. So she went and sat next to him, rubbing soothing circles into his back. He relaxed minutely, but it was a start. "It's okay. We can work through it. You'll remember," she coaxed gently. He heaved a sigh. "Where were you before you went to Skull Pile?"

"I..." He raised his head and paused to think, staring at her with his forehead all scrunched up. "I was meeting with suspects."

"What were the suspects for?"

His eyes screwed shut and it seemed he was thinking really, really hard. "I think... yes, I was trying to find out where Blaise was killed. Blaise sent me a scan of a door before he was killed and... I was looking for its location, I think." He leaned a little bit into her touch without even noticing it. She felt a little bit of pride having helped him relax. This was all she could do now to help. "I think that's right."

"So one of the suspects told you the door was in Skull Pile," she said, speculating. His eyes lit up. "You found the door?"

"Bloody hell, Granger! You're right!" he said grinning. They lapsed into a little silence as she watched him think. "Son of a fucking squib! I remember now."

"What?" she asked, startled. She hadn't seen him swear this much since...ever, actually. It was a stark contrast.

"I was found. I tripped a ward. In fact, I think I met the man who kidnapped your son and he tried to kill me," he stated, clearly excited at remembering. She felt like she'd lost the ability to breathe and couldn't move a single muscle. "Yeah, that explains the injuries. But don't worry, I don't think he's out to kill the children."

"Ch-children?" she managed to force out.

"Yeah. There are other families. We were able to connect several missing children cases with this one. It was genius on Potter's part," Draco said, grudgingly. Apparently he didn't like Harry's successes. He shivered. "But we're going to get this sick fucker, don't you worry."

She nodded. They'd have to now. Draco had seen the man and escaped, so he could probably help the Aurors. And for some reason Draco knew that the man wasn't killing the children – children! Plural! – so she'd just have to take his word for it for now. Her heart was on overdrive and she still couldn't breathe properly. Everything felt almost like a dream.

"How did you manage to escape, anyhow?" she asked him. "You were...you were hurt pretty bad when you got here."

"He thought I was dead." Draco shrugged at her nonchalantly and her heart was in her throat. "I got lucky this time," he added gently, noting her expression.

Before she could say anything, Harry Potter apparated into the room looking around frantically and finding the odd image of his best friend and best co-worker sitting in bed together having a civil conversation. Before she could even say hello to him though, he was talking – nearly shouting – at them.

"We've got him! We've found the hide out from the info you sent us!" he was nearly shrieking. Draco had been still for a moment and then he was out of bed getting dressed. Hermione couldn't keep up with all that was going around her, she was still shocked at the news she'd been given. "It wasn't in the same alley, they abandoned that, but they have another hideout not but three alleys down. We wouldn't even have found out about it if it weren't for MacLaggen."

"I just have to...I have to take a strength potion, I'll meet you there in five minutes, Potter." Harry clapped Draco on the shoulder and apparated out of the room, gone just as quick as he had come. Draco finished dressing, did in fact down a strength potion that had been stored in his drawer, and accio'ed something that looked like a sheathed sword. "As you've gathered, I have to go," he said, addressing her.

"You can't! You're still recovering," she said, worried.

He smiled. "Thanks for caring, but I do have to be there. I'll let the Aurors do all the heavy lifting, don't worry," he said with a wink. She didn't believe him and he knew it. So instead, he unsheathed what actually was a sword from where he'd slung it over his back. "You asked how I survived. This is how."

She took a few tentative steps towards him, not sure what to say, but found that she didn't have to say anything at all. The sword in his hands was absolutely _beautiful. _It was coal black, so black it nearly glimmered in the light. The handle had emerald encrusting and the whole thing looked to be absolutely priceless. There were runes etched into the sword. She leaned forwards to read.

_Power is taken, not granted. _

She wondered if he knew what was inscribed on the beautiful black blade. It didn't matter if the inscription was all arrogant and pureblooded, the sword had saved Draco's life, so she was thankful.

As she reached forwards to run her fingers along the flat of the blade, a shock passed through her. It was as if there was a subtle darkness that consumed her as soon as her fingertips made contact with the blade. It was all she could do not to gasp out loud, but she knew one thing. Whatever that blade was, it was evil and Draco should _not _be carrying it, life saving or not.

But before she could voice her thoughts to him, he was gone, just like everything else in her life.


	15. Strange Goings

**Chapter Fifteen: Strange Goings**

The first thing Draco did when he landed after the nausea of apparation had passed was the incantation to activate the sword that lay nestled safely between his extremely sore shoulder blades. Draco knew he shouldn't be out of bed and out and about already, but this mission was too far gone for Draco not be here, here where all the action was going to take place. Rather than give two shits about his health, he was here, solving another mission.

But hell, he wasn't going to take any chances this time around.

The consequences of the stupid mistake of underestimating the kidnapping murderer were still resonating through his body. Every intake of breath sent a dull ache through his chest, as his newly healed ribs and lacerations were still quite raw. Each step he took forward was a complete, laborious pain, sending continuous jolts of agony through his barely healed legs.

His limbs were protesting.

By all accounts, he really ought not to be putting any weight on his legs or any pressure on himself in general. But he had to be here – had to see this all through to the very end.

That was the other reason why activating the blade was an immediately required action. The blade not only lent him energy it had conserved for itself, but it also concentrated his energies where they needed to be. Less energy needed to be spent making his body realize that being awake was injurious and more towards pumping his heart fast enough that his muscles were constantly ready for attack.

His mind sure as hell was ready for an attack that was for sure. Being so close to the alley he had so very nearly been killed in definitely made him stand on guard. If the sword hadn't been controlling his actions so meticulously, Draco knew he would have panicked, would've gone into the shock that he hadn't had the time to experience yet from the incident. But as it was, the sword forced his mind to be calm, precise, and rational.

The blade was on survival mode and Draco was sure he was going to survive now.

And Draco was bloody thankful for it. He hadn't needed, or relied on anything more than the black blade his entire life. Not his parents or sham of a family, not school, or even his trusty wand. And that was really saying something. A wand was to a wizard as breathing was to a human. Without it, they'd be dead. Draco _knew _his heart was beating because of the blade alone. It was safe to say that he was completely attached to it.

It was with that attachment and newfound determination that the sword had filled Draco with that Draco stepped towards the alleyway in which Potter was basing his operation. It was the alleyway that lay directly below the abandoned boarding house Draco had scouted the area from the other day. Had it only been just a day or so since he had been there, burning under the sun? He had no concept of time and thought it was probably better that way.

Why concentrate on the past when you have a very bloody, death filled future to look forward to?

The alleyway was bustling with Aurors of all ranks, all being guided and commanded by Potter himself. It seemed that the entire Auror department was present in that little alleyway, on top of the boarding house, and even in a few of the buildings. Draco wasn't surprised at this. This certainly had become a very high profile case and Draco knew it was priority number one at the Ministry for the moment.

This was also not surprising at all, seeing as the fucker was kidnapping defenceless children, one of which was from a very high profile family. And then there was the issue of murder, Dark Arts infringement, and occupying illegal property for nefarious uses.

Draco knew that Potter probably had a list of offences in that master Auror file of his, enough offences that the fucker would be charged with a hundred lifetimes in Azkaban and more. Potter was nothing if not thorough. It was the least Draco could say about the man.

But Draco hoped it wouldn't have to come to that. Draco wanted to catch the fucker himself, wanted to be the one that finally brought the bastard down. There would be no Azkaban for the monster. Draco would definitely kill the mother fucking son of a bitch. It would only take one quick spell and he knew he hated the bastard enough for it to work.

When Draco approached Harry, pushing his way through dozens of Aurors, Harry firmly grasped his arm. "Alright there, Malfoy?" he asked Draco, his voice quiet enough so only Draco could hear him. "You look a bit green."

Draco shrugged, not paying too much attention to the Head Auror lest he give himself and his condition away. It would be extremely counterproductive if Potter caught on and sent him home. "Apparating in this condition always makes me queasy, as you know. Nothing to concern yourself with," he easily offered back. It seemed harry was too preoccupied to catch the lie and just distantly nodded back.

"We're going to infiltrate in exactly four minutes and thirty seconds," he informed Draco. "We have the alley and the escape routes surrounded and will be approaching from both entrances and the roof. The Unspeakables are working through the wards, as we speak," he paused, checking if everything was going to plan before turning back to Draco. "You good to go, mate? We're going in from the front. Get ready, I'll meet you there," he muttered hastily before clapping Draco on the back and walking off.

Trying his best not to cringe from the pain of the friendly pat, he stared at Potter's retreating back for a moment, just blankly staring. His mind didn't think about anything at all. It was a moment of complete emptiness, where he wasn't aware of the world, and the world was sure as hell not aware of him. It was a rare moment in time, where Draco Malfoy was out of sync with his surroundings. It was an even rarer moment in time that no one was paying attention to the blond enigma.

But it was the closest to peaceful he'd felt in a long while.

It didn't matter that he was in the middle of an investigation, that he was in a place that he had nearly died. Something in his mind had just clicked and it hadn't been because of a pretty bushy haired girl yelling at him to concentrate or a sword messing with his mind. He was just _together _for once.

Perhaps he was going places after all.

He was suddenly jerked out of his thoughts when someone collided roughly with him. He couldn't stop the cry of pain that left his unwilling mouth, but goddamn it hurt! He nearly growled at the offender, but the young man was completely oblivious to Draco's seething anger and immeasurable pain.

"Hey, you're Draco Malfoy!" the boy exclaimed. "Pleasure to meet you! I'm Austin Meyers."

"Who?" Draco asked artlessly, rubbing his arm.

"Austin Meyers. I just graduated from the Auror program last week. This is my first ever mission." The man – no, _boy _– seemed insanely excited by the idea. Draco couldn't care less, either way. He just wanted the little twat to shut the fuck up and leave him alone. "You know, Mr. Malfoy, you're like a legend at the Auror department. It's real amazing to meet you in person!"

Draco couldn't stop himself from glaring. On some level, Draco knew that the newbie was just excited. He didn't _really _mean any harm, far from it. But Draco was tired, hungry, and in pain. He really wasn't in the mood to put up with this shit. The kid was taking up his precious preparation time. He was just about to meet his number one enemy for gods' sakes! He didn't need this crap right now.

"Yes, I'm aware my reputation precedes me," Draco replied coldly, nearly glaring daggers at the boy.

The boy – Argus, or whatever the hell his name was – still didn't get the picture. "You're a hero!" the boy exclaimed happily. He seemed happy, completely thrilled at the prospect of walking on the same ground as his idol.

"You said you're new here, right?" Draco asked. The boy nodded eagerly. "I don't know if your superiors have had the time to tell you this or not, we _are _after all working on the biggest case since the war, but we all have our places here." He paused to see if the boy was following his drift, but the idiot clearly wasn't. So Draco decided he'd just have to crush the poor thing's bubble. "Mine is to catch the fucker in that building over there," he gestured, "yours is to run errands for the higher ranked Aurors. So if you'll excuse me..."

The boy's face had fallen, and for a split second, Draco almost felt bad for being so cruel. But what did the boy expect? Draco didn't even know the kid, he wasn't obligated to play nice with anyone here but Potter. This was serious shit, anyhow! There was no time for fun and games, idol worshipping and silliness. The boy had to stay focused and learn his place or he'd get killed on the field.

Or worse, horribly maimed and stuck behind a desk for the rest of his life.

Draco didn't have another spare moment to think about the unimportant matter, because the operation was about to commence. This left him no more time to regain his sense of strange calm. He was kind of unprepared, but it didn't matter. He was as ready as he could be under the circumstances – half dead, half in shock, and half sleep deprived.

It was game time.

He made his way towards Potter who looked at him for confirmation. He couldn't do anything else but nod. He wasn't about to stop the mission from commencing just because he wasn't feeling the best. So alright, he felt like he was about to keel over and vomit. But this had to be over _today. _He had waited too long, worked way too hard to not continue now. There were countless Aurors to back him up now, though, so there was no way he was going to die.

_That's consolation at least..._

Potter sent the word out to his massive team to commence and just like that it all began. Yes, this was the beginning of the end. It would all be over in a few hours.

The Unspeakables were working their magic onto the door. Draco couldn't even imagine how many sleepless nights had been passed in the Department of Mysteries to discover and find counter spells to all the spells, wards, and runes that were placed on the door. There were layers upon layers of magic, as the sword showed him. Draco was surprised that the Unspeakables had managed to be prepared in such a short amount of time. Perhaps the Ministry wasn't completely useless after all.

It couldn't be _completely _useless in the first place, he amended in his head. The boy wonder was there running things, of course. And there was always Granger. Everyone knew that anything Granger did went splendidly. Everything she touched turned to gold.

Including him.

She _had _touched him, hadn't she? Yes, she had, and he was all the better for it. He wasn't a completely cold, silver Slytherin at heart anymore. No, she'd stuck her golden claws into his back and made him see red.

Yeah, he was turning into a fucking bloody, mushy, strong feeling Gryffindor at heart for her. He wasn't sure exactly when it had happened. She had made him reign in his jack arse, arrogant, rude antics by wearing her emotions on her sleeve. She'd brought his son home from the jaws of his snarky, snake wife. She'd taken care of him when he'd nearly died. She'd bloody put up with him all this time and had _stayed! _

No one had _ever _stayed with Draco, never in his entire life. His parents, his own wife, his friends... they'd all left for greater and nicer deals, leaving Draco to sit in their settling dust. He had never really minded it, of course, hadn't given two shits about it. He had had his work, Blaise, and his fortune. But work had tried to kill him and Blaise was gone. He couldn't exactly have a nice conversation with his money now, could he?

But it wasn't hopeless. He _did _care now, now that Granger had stepped in. She had changed his view of the world, had changed him without him even noticing.

He might even tolerate her now.

Oh, who was he kidding? He was clearly obsessed with the pretty brunette. It was almost relieving to admit it to himself, to finally acknowledge the weight that had settled into his chest. Granger – _Hermione _– had changed him, had forced him to re-evaluate his life. Things could be better after this mission was completed. He'd deal with his lack of friends, deal with his bitch wife, raise his son properly, and go on a long fucking vacation.

Who knew, maybe he'd even ask Granger out. That is, if she ever wanted to see his sorry mug ever again after this whole ordeal was over.

Feeling a little mentally settled, he watched the Unspeakables break into a sweat in front of the heavily guarded door. Draco could tell it was really complicated magic - spells and curses Draco had never even heard of before. All manner of coloured spells hit the door, complicated wand work ensued, and long, intricate incantations were muttered, until finally, the door creaked open.

Draco let out a breath that he hadn't even been aware he was holding.

Harry paused, waiting for the confirmation that the Unspeakables at the other back entrance had been able to get through. They all waited in eager anticipation, silence heavy among them. Draco's heart started to pound wildly. He had never been so nervous on a mission before this. No mission had ever mattered as much as this one clearly did.

_He is not here...He is not here... He is not here... _

Draco paused, not understanding, not willing to believe that the sword had actually said what he thought it had said. But it couldn't be possible. The man _had _to be here. This was his goddamn base! This was where he was keeping the children, it had to be. They all had worked too hard for it all to have just gone to waste.

_Empty, it's empty, _the sword whispered. _Left killed, all gone, nothing, nothing... _

Draco stopped dead in his tracks just as Potter stepped forward. Apparently, Potter had received the confirmation to proceed. Should Draco go in anyways? It couldn't hurt. It couldn't be a bad thing, really. He'd only leave knowing more about the psychopath. And that would be valuable information in the future.

But he knew the reality was that it would just be a huge waste of time. If there was no man to catch here, Draco ought to leave and find another lead. They were running out of time.

Draco just didn't understand. He had been sure that this was the area of the psychopath's hideout. He had known it on instinct and his instinct was never wrong. Perhaps the man had gotten spooked and abandoned ship? Perhaps he had killed the children and gone to a different continent to go into hiding? It would be the smart thing to do, to leave and bide your time for the next opportune moment.

But Draco didn't think that was right. The man was definitely still here. As far as Draco knew, he had the taste for extravagance and power. If he really had killed the children, he would have left their bodies for the Aurors to find and that hadn't happened yet.

_Yet_.

So that left two options. Either the man had never kept the children here or he had never used this place as a hideout. Draco immediately dismissed the second option. Why ward a place so heavily, why _kill _people here to protect a secret, if you have no use for it? That wasn't logical and the man seemed to be _very _logical and rational, if anything.

Draco couldn't think any farther, though. His head hurt and his thoughts were completely scrambled. He couldn't do this on his own, he realized. He needed help, and he knew just the person to help him get the job done.

"He's not here," he said loudly to the other Aurors just before he apparated away.

/

When Hugo awoke, he was groggy but not completely heartbroken. Yes, things hadn't been going in the best of directions for him lately. Two people had already died on his watch and who knew how many more there were to come? But there was still hope. There was still a plan.

He would somehow just have to make it work. They all would.

Hugo and the other children had spent hours collaborating on the plan. It wasn't a very good plan – like his last plan hadn't exactly been the best of ideas – but it was also all that they had. The children realized that they would have to put their faith in it. Hugo had already dedicated himself to it and when Hugo believed in something, he stuck with it to the end.

Like mother like son.

They had whispered ideas back and forth to each other, quiet enough that they wouldn't draw any attention to themselves. They weren't exactly aware of what kinds of charms or monitoring system the man had on them. The blonde girl that Hugo had become so fond of over his ordeal didn't seem to find anything wrong with barely audible whispers. Since she had been here the longest, they simply took her judgement on the matter. It was really all they had to go on.

Besides, Hugo trusted her. When she didn't refute the plan, but only added onto it quietly, Hugo knew that they might actually have some kind of chance to escape. Even if it was only a little one and only a few of them (if any) would manage. They just had to hope the sacrifice was worth it.

It _was _worth it for Hugo. Hugo wanted to see his mother again. He hadn't told her he loved her before he'd been captured and brought here. He wanted to say sorry for talking to strangers. He wanted to apologize for putting her through the worry she was no doubt in. But more than that, he just wanted to be out of here and be _safe. _He didn't want to see his friends die. _He _didn't want to die.

It was really scary.

But still, the plan wasn't as good as it could be. There were kinks that Hugo couldn't find answers to. Neither could the other children, for that matter. Hugo didn't think it was safe to even attempt escaping if they didn't figure out these kinks first. It would just kill their opportunity and then they'd _all _die. This was something that Hugo really wanted to avoid at all costs.

For example, how were they supposed to know that the man had left the vincity? It didn't really matter since the man was almost nearly _always _in the room just beyond the one the children were caged in. They could hear him. Sometimes he would be pacing, sometimes he would perform magic, other times he would talk to himself, or others.

He was always there, so they _couldn't _risk escaping. The man would just catch them and take whatever little magic they had right then.

That was another problem. They had no idea how long they had left to carry out the flawed escape plan in the first place. While Hugo wasn't completely sure that the plan would work, he was more than willing to risk it. The last time he had had a plan, he had waited too long and his opportunity had sailed right past his own eyes. If he had perhaps risked it, he and the others could've been gone from here. Perhaps the new little boy who he had never even talked to would be alive.

Hugo wanted to cry at the prospect. He wasn't used to making these kinds of decisions. The others looked up to him. He was the one with the plan so he should be the one to decide when to carry out the action. But Hugo just didn't know _when. _All he could do was sit there and hope that when the time came, he would know what to do.

But he had hoped for that once and it had failed him greatly.

It was really an exasperating procedure, arguing with himself continuously in his mind. The others just waited patiently in fear for him to commence, if he were to commence. They did not comment in fear that the man on the other side of the door would hear and he did not assail their fears in case he missed something that occurred on the other side of the door.

And much _did _occur. Hugo always listened, had made a habit of it at a very young age. He was used to listening, categorizing, and trying to figure out of that information would be useful to him at some point in the future. It had helped him survive here, thus far.

As he listened today, he found that the man was a little more aggravated than usual. Sure, the man had quite a short temper, but today it seemed even worse. Hugo hoped that the man wouldn't come to take it out on them. But it was far more than that. The man seemed desperate, afraid, actually _concerned. _Hugo wondered what had happened for the man to act so out of character. He perked his ears to hopefully catch something more out of the conversation the man was having with the other people.

"They took the bait, then?" he was saying.

A woman with a gravelly voice responded, "Yes. They're going to raid the place soon. Potter's been there since last night..." She trailed off.

The man gave a weak laugh. "Didn't know the bugger had it in him." There were a chorus of laughs and some muttered words that Hugo couldn't really make out. "They're onto us, Charlie. We can't risk too much more here. Potter's not completely blind and you two are more of a liability than an asset."

There was more silence and an occasional murmur. Hugo's heart started to pound wildly in his chest. They had mentioned Uncle Harry. There were no other Potters that Hugo knew of. That had to mean that Uncle Harry and his Aurors were looking for Hugo and the other children! A little pinprick of hope blossomed in Hugo's chest before he promptly squashed it. The man had said that the Aurors had taken the bait.

That meant that they had fallen into a trap.

Hugo really wished that nothing bad had happened to Uncle Harry or any of the Aurors. No one deserved to die, especially just because they were looking for Hugo. It pained Hugo to think that this was all his fault. If only he had not gone off with the stranger to get cookies...

But if he hadn't, he would never have met his friends, and they'd have all died. At least now they had some chance of escaping. So this was good. Hugo wouldn't let them suffer for much longer. This was...news, at the very least.

"We're almost ready for the ritual, boss. Won't take long now," said a voice. It was a very gruff and gravelly voice. Hugo recognized it from before. He was the man that had called his friend _disposable. _

But then the gravity of the situation hit Hugo. The man had said that the ritual was almost ready. That meant that they were almost ready to take their magic away! Which meant... there wasn't all that much more time before the man tried to kill them! Hugo almost fainted.

When he looked to the side to find the blonde little girl staring at him, all he could do was stare with panicked eyes. It surprised him when she smiled comfortingly and nodded at him. He knew what that meant. He would have to throw the plan into motion very, very soon. They would have to be ready for it. They didn't have much time left.

It was either run or be killed and Hugo was preparing the best he could to run as fast as his legs would carry him.

/

Hermione had been sitting on Draco's bed ever since he had apparated away, clutching his pillow to her chest. She became increasingly panicky by the minute. They were going to find her baby today. Malfoy was going to make good on his promise and then she'd be able to hold her child again. Everything would finally be alright.

She had no doubt that Malfoy would fulfill his mission. She knew he was the kind of person that did what he said he would do. He had promised to let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts and had accomplished the impossible. It was the same. He had promised he would bring her son back and she instinctively knew that he would.

That wasn't the issue.

The issue was whether her son was even alive to bring back. She didn't want to bury the body of her child. No. It was almost unimaginable. And that was only the worst case scenario. What if Malfoy brought back a crazed, tortured child? What if he had been scarred? What if...what if...

She couldn't even bring herself to think of the possibilities. All that had gotten her through the past few days had been Malfoy's promise and a firm insistence to keep a blank mind. She knew if she opened her mind to the numerous possibilities, she would tear her hair out and go crazy.

No, it really wasn't safe to think of such things.

So she didn't think. Instead, she held Malfoy's pillow to her chest as if it would protect her from anything and everything that could possibly want to hurt her. Even bad memories and thoughts. She felt that, in a way, it would keep her safe. It smelled distinctly of him and the scent had somehow taken on the ability to comfort her in the past few days. The man himself was an enigma that she really wanted to unravel.

But that was also not a safe topic to think of. At least, not for the moment. She couldn't let her mind ponder such an eventuality when her son was missing. The concept was unthinkable. Nevertheless, she couldn't deny that when she was with him, she almost felt like things were going to be okay. And she really didn't know why that was.

She had been so lost in thought, or lack thereof, that she screamed when Malfoy apparated into the bedroom. He jumped at her scream and she immediately flushed, muttering apologies as she got up, tossing the pillow away as if afraid of being caught. The action was completely missed by him, however. He was flustered, a confused look about his eye.

"What's wrong?" she asked. Her heart was pounding. Hugo wasn't with him. Was he going to tell her bad news? Was Hugo... could he be... "What happened?" she forced herself to ask instead.

Malfoy looked positively disgruntled. "The psycho wasn't there. He _should _have been there, but he wasn't!" Draco dropped his head into his hands. "I can't think, Hermione, I can't think. I need your help again."

She came to sit next to him from where he'd dropped himself on the bed. "What can I do?" she asked quietly.

"_Help _me," he growled. "My head...it's all scrambled. I know there's something missing, but I can't put it the fuck together. It's supposed to be obvious." He was breathing harshly. She knew he really ought to be sleeping off his injuries, but she knew that whatever she said would be ignored. It would be best just to go along with whatever he wanted. It was in _her _best interests as well. "I can't think..."

She gently stroked his back and he immediately relaxed. She was amazed that it had been so easy to calm him down. Perhaps he just needed a little bit of guidance? "Why do you think he wasn't there?" she tried.

"I don't know," he groaned. They sat silently for a moment while she continued stroking his back. He didn't raise his head from his hands and she didn't prompt him to. "I think... I don't think he ever kept the children there to begin with, or at least not for a while."

"Why?"

He paused, thinking. "The place had to be important for him, there were too many protection spells there for it _not _to be."

"But?" she prompted.

"But... he wasn't _there." _He seemed completely annoyed by the idea, and she supposed he was. "I think he left it as bait for us, you know? Have all the Aurors in one spot while he does what he needs to do. It was a trap, I think. Does that make sense?" Hermione nodded. That made perfect sense.

"So what are you going to do?" Hermione asked. He just shrugged his shoulders and leaned closer to her. She had the distinct feeling that he wasn't even aware that she was touching him, but didn't mind. If this was what helped him concentrate, then so be it. She slowly began to stroke his hair and he came even closer, all the tension in his shoulders completely relaxing. "Have you a plan?"

"No plan," he murmured. "No leads..."

So they were at a dead end. He didn't know what to think and she didn't have the first clue. Perhaps if he hadn't been so injured he'd have been able to figure things out and been on top of it all, but he was _sick. _It wasn't really his fault. She couldn't... blame him.

The weirdest part was she had absolutely no inclination to.

Then it struck her. "You said there's something missing." He looked up at her confused. "Earlier, when you first came in, you said that there's something missing. Why did you say that?"

His eyes were blank for a moment and she was worried that his concussion had damaged him irreversibly, but then he focused on her face. "Missing?" he clarified.

"Missing," she nodded.

"Hmm..." He seemed to ponder the issue. "Missing. There is a reason missing from the explanation..." He trailed off in thought and she let him, hoping that this would work. It _had _to work. This was all she had, after all. If Draco didn't pull his act together, everything would go down the drain.

She intertwined her fingers with him and for a moment all he did was stare down at their joined hands as if amazed that she had done such a thing. Then, very unexpectedly, he raised his head and smiled brilliantly at her. She felt his thumb stroke her hand and could feel herself start to blush.

They passed some time in silence where he sat there, thinking.

"When Hugo went missing..." he finally started after a long silence, "how long did it take for you to find out that he was gone?" It seemed to take him a lot of effort to articulate the question.

She thought back. "I had breakfast with him and went to work. I didn't come home until about three in the morning and didn't figure it out until nine the next day." Admitting this out was entirely shameful. She was a _horrid _mother. But it was especially embarrassing to admit it out loud to him, a man who obviously loved his son dearly.

But it seemed he had no judgement in his eyes. "And during the day...Who watched him during the day?"

"I...I had a nanny for him," she said. She felt disgusted in herself.

He nodded to himself as if confirming something. "Right, love. I want to see the nanny."


	16. Manny the Nanny

**Chapter Sixteen: Manny the Nanny **

"The nanny? Why do you want to see the nanny?" Hermione questioned Draco.

But Draco didn't answer, he appeared to be lost in thought. Whatever was on his mind, Hermione wanted to be a part of it. Sure, she was ignoring the fact that he had called her love and she definitely wasn't going to acknowledge the residual feelings from the incident. She could be professional if she wanted to, goddamnit! If the man was going crazy, she had to somehow stop him from doing something too...rash. Too unfocused, at least.

What could the fucking nanny have _anything _to do with finding Hugo? The Aurors had gotten all the useful information out of her during questioning, that was for sure. Hermione had seen to it that the girl had done everything that the Aurors had wanted her to do. All of the records of the testimony and following interviews had been transcribed and placed into the Auror files. Hermione knew that Draco had read it.

Was his concussion messing with his thought process?

Hermione knew it was entirely possible that Draco's rational, almost clinical mind could have been jeopardized by the injuries he had sustained. He could very well just be delusional. She could take him to the nanny and spend a few precious hours there without any fruitful consequences. And then Hugo might potentially die. The fear started to blossom in her chest and she stared to panic.

Yes, she was going to hyperventilate, and it was going to be a very humiliating experience. She didn't want to let Draco Malfoy, her long time nemesis and recent crush, to see her like this – unprofessional, a mess, and almost to a breaking point. He was calm and collected, and he'd almost died for Merlin's sake! The least she could do was hold it together and help him like he needed. But what if she wasn't helping at all? What if she was just leading them in the wrong direction when she should have been helping him get back onto the right path?

"Trust me," Draco whispered hotly next to her, "I need to see the nanny."

That made up her mind for her. If she had had any doubts before then – and she'd had several – they were all blown away by his sure, calm, and steady voice. How could he sound so sure of himself when he was clearly an inch away from insanity? How could he be so composed when only a day and a half ago, he had been bleeding to death on the floor in front of her? It was crazy, almost, but she knew she would just have to trust his judgement like he had asked her to.

She got up abruptly, taking his hand to help him up as well. "Alright then, Malfoy, let's go see the nanny."

He smiled softly at her, but it was so dim that she didn't even know if it was directed at her or not, or if he was just smiling in general. It was probably the later. He _was _in pain _and _on pain medication. Not to mention that he'd smashed his head brutally against hard stone repeatedly. Nonetheless, the action was clearly distracting. He probably wasn't even aware of the fact that he was doing it, either!

Gods, she was losing her mind. Was it the ever increasing panic that was causing this or the pent up lust she hadn't dealt with in years? Rather than acknowledge any of the thoughts and stop to analyze the things that were passing wildly through her mind, leaving destruction in its wake, she decided to focus on the task at hand.

So, she took his hand and apparated them to the Ministry of Magic.

"The Ministry?" Draco asked, that goddamn small smile still on his face.

Hermione's cheeks burned when she realized that she was staring at his face, a little open mouthed. He didn't seem to notice. "Um...yeah... the Ministry," she responded stupidly, still staring around. She took his arm and dragged them to the lifts and started jabbing the down button repeatedly and impatiently.

Draco stared at her for a moment blankly and then chuckled. He pulled her hand away from the lift buttons with a little smirk. "I think you've sufficiently called the lift, Granger." She blushed. Why did he have to be so... Whatever it is that he was! She tried to look everywhere but him. He seemed oblivious to her discomfort. "So... Why are we here? At the Ministry."

She looked at him uncomprehendingly. "You wanted to see the nanny," she replied listlessly.

Malfoy's eyes widened a fraction. "They're keeping her here at the Ministry?"

"Oh!" she exclaimed, realizing that he hadn't been informed of the arrangement. "Yes, they're keeping her here at the Ministry. I'm sorry, I forgot to fill you in on the arrangement."

He seemed perplexed, but she couldn't help but smile. "Why the hell would they keep her here? She's not a suspect...is she?" He seemed seriously concerned but all she could do was smile. He seemed to be waiting for an answer, but the lift doors opened before she could reply, and they had to scramble in before the doors shut once more.

Jabbing the button for Level 10 to the holding cells off the Wizengemont courtrooms, she waited impatiently for the lift to get them there. "Yes, they're keeping her here. The bitch was supposed to be taking care of my son, you know. I supposed I'd get a little revenge by making her life miserable."

He chuckled quietly and that just sent shivers down her spine. Why did everything about him have to be so attractive? "Ruthless, Granger. I like it."

And why the hell did he have to compliment her? The lift doors opened before she had the chance to respond – and she thanked her stars, because she honestly had nothing to say to his comment. What was she _supposed _to say? Thanks, Malfoy, I think you're pretty great too?

Instead, she grabbed his arm once more and quickly led him down past the courtrooms and to the adjacent holding cells. The guard on duty just took a look at her and Malfoy before waving them through with an extremely bored expression on his face. She didn't question it. On a normal day she would have been completely disgusted with the guard's lack of sense. Anyone could be impersonating Malfoy and herself. The very _least _the guard should have done was checked their wands like protocol required! Or maybe their Ministry passes, even though those could be forged with very good magic. But on that day, she didn't question it, she only thanked Merlin for the guard's incompetence. She didn't want anything slowing them down.

Besides, who cared if someone was here to kill the stupid nanny? As far as Hermione was concerned, the bitch had everything that was coming to her. That included all sorts of catastrophes and serial killers! She knew her mind was a little _wrong _in that aspect, but she hadn't forgiven Manny for betraying her trust. She knew she'd never forgive Manny for not doing her job.

How could someone not pay attention to a child as sweet as Hugo?

It only pissed her off further. She knew that she should have calmed herself down before entering the holding cell behind Draco. She knew she should probably have kept her emotions in check, at least reigned them back a little bit, but she really couldn't. The stress had finally gotten to her and she was a little hormonal. It was completely understandable to throw a bitch fit, she told herself. Just as long as she didn't kill the stupid fuck, she was fine.

Draco was as calm as ever as he opened the door and went in. She didn't understand how he could be so calm and in control of himself in such a situation. Was it because he was a Slytherin and a Malfoy? Or was it just because it wasn't _his _son's life on the line? Hermione didn't care. She supposed it was best if one of them were calm and rational at all times.

Manny had been lying on the small cot in the corner of the room when they had both walked in. At first, she had looked up hopeful, perhaps thinking that someone had come to spring her. But Hermione had made sure that she was not allowed out of the prison before Hugo was found. It was the least the bitch deserved, and Hermione had had to pull quite a few strings to have made this happen. Annoyance flitted over Manny's face when her eyes saw Draco's figure. That was also understandable. She probably assumed he was another Auror because he wasn't wearing the normal guard uniform.

When her eyes fell on Hermione they immediately widened in fear.

Draco conjured a chair for her and himself before gracefully sitting down. The movement temporarily distracted Hermione, so much so that she was already in her seat and crossing her legs before she was even aware of it. Draco leaned a little closer to her unconsciously, as if looking for a little support. Hermione placed her hand on his leg and his muscles seemed to just relax at the touch.

"Hello, Manny," he began. His voice was polite and lilting. Even Hermione felt a little relaxed at the sound.

Manny seemed to be on the same page as her, because she didn't seem as afraid anymore. "Hi..." Manny said quietly.

At the sound of the idiotic babysitter's voice, Hermione's eyes automatically narrowed. She turned to give the girl her full glare. As Hermione pinned the pitiful girl with her most venomous expression, she could almost feel Manny trembling under the gaze. She was surprised Manny hadn't whimpered from fear yet. Oh how she longed to get up and go rip out that disgusting looking hair... Maybe scratch into the stupid bitch's face... Oh yes, and gouge out the eyes. That would definitely be her number one priority.

Draco cleared his throat disrupting Hermione's glaring match. "I have a few questions for you, Manny," he said in that sweet, calming, distracting voice again. "I think you could be of great assistance."

Manny turned her head away from Hermione, giving Draco her full attention now. She gave him the once over, clearly liking what she saw. Hermione nearly _growled. _The bitch had the nerve to give the man that was looking for her son attention? Why, she'd kill the stupid slut! She only needed a good reason to do so. Anything would suffice at this point, really. All she needed was something that was plausible enough to get rid of any assault charges that might follow...

"I...I already told the Auror's everything I know..." Manny stuttered.

Hermione almost snorted. The stutter sounded completely fake to her. She didn't care if Manny was actually scared or not – and she had _better _be scared, because if she wasn't, Hermione would make the hell sure she was – Hermione just wanted to tear her eyes out, that's all. It wasn't asking too much, was it?

"I just want you to answer a few of my questions, alright?" Draco asked. Manny nodded reluctantly. "Do you think you can tell me about what happened the day Hugo disappeared?"

"I've told everyone I didn't see anything! I swear it! Honest!" Manny screeched, clearly desperate to get out of her unfortunate situation.

But for Hermione, this was the perfect opportunity. She had always hated screechy noises, and Manny's voice? Yeah, that was definitely a screechy, _unnecessa-fucking-sary_ noise. She got up from her conjured chair, grabbed Manny by the throat, and began shaking her. "You bloody little bitch! _Cooperate _or so help me God, I will kill you!"

She immediately felt Draco's hand on her forearm, but his intervention was unnecessary. Manny had easily caved in. "I'll tell you everything I know! Just let go, let _go!_" the stupid bitch cried. Hermione did let go reluctantly, then went back and sat in her chair. Draco was trying very hard not to smirk at her, she could tell. She didn't care if he found her amusing. She'd just wanted to beat the crap out of Manny for a very long time now.

She gestured for Draco to continue, which he did. "Alright, Manny... Do you think you can answer my questions without... provoking Ms. Granger here?" There was a barely restrained smile on his face.

Yeah, he was trying hard not to laugh. Bastard.

Manny sniffed disdainfully and wiped her nose on her sleeve. There were big tears in her round eyes and she glared at Hermione. Hermione wondered where the girl had gotten the nerve to even attempt such a thing. "What's she doing here anyway?" Manny whined. "She's not an Auror-"

But before Manny could say anything further and before Draco could stop her, Hermione was out of her seat once more, strangling the stupid bitch. "What am I _doing _here?" Hermione yelled. "You've the nerve to ask me what the fuck I'm doing here, you shoe licking bitch?"

"Hermione," Draco called patiently, getting up and putting his hand on her shoulder to get her to stop. "You have to control yourself."

But Hermione didn't listen. "My son is _gone _because of you, you stupid two-bit whore!" She punched Manny in the face and was completely satisfied when she heard a loud crack. Good, the bitch was going to have a lopsided nose now. She definitely deserved it. "The _least _you can do is show a little remorse!" Hermione managed to kick the girl in the ribs before Draco pulled her away. "_What?_" she growled at him.

"I think..." he said quietly into her ear, "that you should wait outside."

Hermione was enraged. What did he mean _wait outside? _She had every bit a right to be here as he did! Sure, she wasn't an Auror, but this was about _her _son! The bitch had personally wronged her, so she definitely deserved a punch or two. Perhaps permanent disfigurement on the side. There was nothing wrong with that, she told herself. He should just understand where she was coming from and if he didn't, then she wasn't sure that she ought to like him all that much anymore.

He seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts, at least partially, because he began rubbing soothing circles into her shoulder. She realized he hadn't lifted his hand away from earlier. That was a little weird, wasn't it? He leaned towards her once more. "As much as I enjoy seeing you all feisty, I need to ask her questions and you're wasting time we don't have," he whispered.

She immediately blushed. "Fine," was her only response. She grabbed her chair, glared at the object of her hatred, and dragged herself out of the room, slamming the door behind her.

God, how could she have been so stupid? Of _course, _he understood. He was just being rational and collected as always. She had been completely out of control... and she had wasted time. He was absolutely right. She felt ashamed of herself. How could she have almost jeopardized her son's life like that? Apparently, Malfoy needed something out of Manny, and that something was important.

So, alright. She'd have to stay away and _not _kill the bitch. At least, not kill the bitch _yet. _There was always time for that later, she supposed. Right now, she had to focus on her priorities. Unfortunately for Hermione, those priorities weren't always so clear. First was her son and then there was the fact that Malfoy had said that he liked to see her feisty. Her cheeks blushed an even darker shade of red before she groaned and hid her head in her hands.

All she could do was wonder what Malfoy wanted from the nanny as she sat there, mourning her misfortunes.

/

Draco was a mixture of conflicting emotions. He was amused at Granger's hilarious antics. Who knew that she had it in her? Yes, he'd had a glimpse of the fiery woman that hid behind Granger's wall of self control during his third year, but today she'd just gotten up and lashed out like he'd never seen before. And it had been bloody hot! That was another thing. Draco had become painfully aroused at the display of violence.

It wasn't that Draco liked seeing people hurt or anything, gods no, nothing like that. Granger had just taken him by surprise. She'd been strong, powerful, demanding, and kind of demonic in her passion. He had always loved women who weren't afraid to get their hands dirty, women who took what they want, and weren't afraid to give the world a piece of their minds.

Granger _definitely _was one of those women.

But mostly, Draco was just concerned. First, he was afraid that the girl wouldn't talk now after Granger's outbursts. Second, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to concentrate on getting the girl to talk now that Granger was so thoroughly entrenched in his mind. Why did she have to go and screw everything up for him? He'd only just gotten his mind on the right track! How was he supposed to concentrate when he could still see her beautiful, pink stained cheeks in his mind?

But he'd have to, wouldn't he? They'd come this far and he sure as hell wasn't about to back down now. He'd given blood, sweat, and tears to this mission, and he'd be damned if he let all his precious hard work go to waste. So he went about his business. He fixed the girl's Granger inflicted injuries and sat down, staring at her until she'd pulled herself together and stopped crying. He offered her his handkerchief, which she took gratefully and blew her nose on.

Draco tried his best not to cringe. _Hermione _would never act so disgustingly. She probably would have daintily dabbed at her face, because she was probably just that kind of woman. But even if she was a disgusting type of person, he hardly thought he'd have minded.

"So, Manny, how old are you?" he asked as nicely as he could.

She seemed confused about his random question. To be honest, it wasn't _completely _random. "I'm...I'm twenty-five this summer, Mr...?"

"Malfoy," he replied. Her eyes widened as she recognized his name. He put on a pleasant smile on his face – at least he _hoped _it was pleasant – and she seemed to relax. "And what do you do, Manny?"

"I'm a nanny," she replied easily. "I've been working with Mrs. Weasley for five years now..."

The wheels in his head began to turn. "But it's not your first choice of occupation," he guessed. She nodded, looking surprised that he'd even asked. He supposed it was a valid reaction, to be surprised. The Aurors probably wouldn't have cared what she did, what she had wanted to do. But in a real investigation, when information was scarce especially, things like this actually _mattered. _"What did you want to be doing with your life, then?"

"I wanted to be a fashion consultant, but the industry doesn't have all that many jobs open," she shrugged. He tried his best not to snort. Fashion consultant? But he supposed this was good for his case. She was probably the type of girl that kept in on all kinds of information and the going-ons of all the neighbours. It wasn't as if she actually did her job and looked after the kid – she'd have to have something to do with all her spare time.

"That's a pity," he said in a faux sympathetic voice. Luckily for him, she sucked it right in and beamed at him. "It must have been _really _hard for you to adjust to being a nanny, then, since you didn't really want to be there, right?" She shrugged again, uncertain of herself. "Were there any people in the neighbourhood you worked in that made your transition easier?" he asked. He posed it like it was just another unimportant question, like he was just getting to know her.

"Not really," she replied slowly, thinking. "I mean, our next door neighbours were pretty nice. The Bourdons, you know them?" Draco shook his head, gesturing for her to continue. "Yeah. They're an elderly couple. They always used to come and make sure Hugo and I had enough to eat at home and all that..."

Draco smiled. "That's nice of them," he offered. She smiled back. "Were there any people who you _didn't _like? Anyone unhelpful?"

She thought back and it looked like she was giving it some serious thought. "Well... when I first started working, there was this man who lived down the street and he was like _really _mean. He'd give Hugo and me all these dirty looks and stuff, and he was all scary like. I mean, _I _never did anything to him, so I don't know what his deal was," she seemed completely affronted. "Oh, he used to live in that house that's abandoned now. Everyone says he was a freak! But Mrs. Shookner – that's our other neighbour – tells me she swears she saw him pack up one night and just leave -"

Draco could tell that this was the local gossip. He really wanted to not bother listening to the drivel she was spewing at him, but this could be potentially useful information later on. One never knew what turned out to be useful, after all. But if only she just didn't have such an annoying voice, Draco might actually give two damns about her.

Unfortunately, the girl was a complete and utter brat with a voice to match. He almost wanted to open the door and let Hermione back in to punch the girl in the face again.

Alas, he had to be polite. So he was going to be polite if it killed him.

"So, no one's been living at the house since then, eh? Must be spooky," he offered, trying to seem interested.

She nodded. "It is! Every time we pass by, it's _so _scary. But you know, Shauna – that's Mrs. Shookner's daughter – says that someone's bought the house. I think it's the really hot guy with the retarded son that just moved in on the block. I never personally talked to him, but he's real attractive."

Well this was interesting, even if it sounded irrelevant. Hot guy with a son? Perhaps. "Then perhaps they'll fix up the house, don't you think?" He just wanted it to be over.

"That's the thing, though," she said, leaning forward as if she was about to let him in on the biggest secret of his life. He fought the urge to roll his eyes. He didn't care about neighbourhood gossip – never had, never would. "That house still looks abandoned. No one goes in and no one comes out, so he _can't _live there."

Perhaps this was a potential lead after all.

"What did you say this man looks like?" Draco asked, unconcerned, a bored expression on his face. He stared down at his nails, hoping the girl would get the picture and hurry the fuck up.

She shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. He's tall, brown hair, brown eyes, _killer _smile. But he's got the most _disgusting_ hand! It was like DEFORMED, I'm not joking. I was so shocked when I saw him on the street the other day and he shook Hugo's hand. It was like gross, get that thing off him! And then I told-"

But Draco had heard enough. He got up so fast out of his chair that it fell backwards with a huge crash. He didn't care though. Could it possibly be? It could be nothing and Draco could be overreacting. But he didn't think he was. He was pretty sure he knew what was going on now. Everything fit in his head perfectly. It was an ingenious plan. Why hadn't he thought of it _before? _

If Draco was right, he knew exactly where Hugo Weasley was.

/

It was going to have to be now. Hugo _knew _it was going to have to be now, but he just couldn't bring himself to go through with the plan anyways. It didn't matter that their time was slowly ticking out. It didn't matter that all the other children were counting on him. It didn't matter that he was probably going to die anyways whether he did it or not. It didn't matter. Hugo was _scared. _There was no other explanation for why he was hesitating.

He was just plain scared and no reason in the world could matter enough to change that.

But somewhere in his mind, Hugo knew that it _did _matter, no matter how he was feeling, no matter how much he wanted to curl up and cry. He couldn't. He had to go through with it. He had to remind himself that there _were _other people counting on him to make this happen. He had to try for them. Besides. His mind had been right. They really didn't have all that much time anymore.

So Hugo had to suck it up and just do it. They really didn't have time to waste and think. There wasn't time to wait for the perfect opportunity. The man and his people had been talking to each other in the other room and they had said that their ritual was almost nearly complete. All they needed was one more child that could actually display magic when needed.

They had said that they already knew where they could find such a child. It wouldn't be long now, they had said.

And when that child was found and brought here, tested and tortured, the ritual would commence. And then Hugo and the other children would have their magic taken away from them. Then Hugo and the other children would be killed. There was no denying that reality. No denying the fact that the man thought they were _disposable. _Besides, the man probably didn't want to get caught. He was hardly going to keep them around. What if they tattle-tailed?

But that didn't change the fact that Hugo was more scared than he had ever been in his life. Sure, he'd come up with a plan, sure he knew that they had some chance of success... But he hadn't factored in the part where he was a coward. He had never been brave. What had he been expecting, anyways? Would he have suddenly turned into a Gryffindor lion and roared until all the bad guys went away?

No, sir, not Hugo. Hugo was a coward, always was and always will be! He couldn't do this...he really couldn't.

But he had to, anyways.

But only _heroes _did brave stuff. Only heroes roared. And Hugo was definitely not a hero. Uncle Harry, his mother, and his father had been heroes if the stories were anything to go by. Not him. Never him.

But he had to, anyways.

So he was going to, anyways.

Hugo began to concentrate as hard as he could on the cage door. He focused all of his energies, all of his power, all of his mental resources onto that cage door. He tried, and tried, and tried until he was red in the face and out of breath. He tried until his head started to swim and his vision started to go black from the effort. He even tried until his entire body started shaking.

But nothing happened.

His plan wasn't _working_. Sure, it was a brilliant plan and all, considering the circumstances and the fact that he was only an eight year old boy. But he had forgotten to factor in one tiny little detail. He had forgotten the fact that he didn't really know he _could _do magic. And now he was stuck!

But he couldn't give up now. He'd be giving up on his mother, on his new friends, on his life! He hadn't even seen Hogwarts yet! He had to try again, he had to somehow make it work. He just had to make his magic do what he wanted it to do. Maybe he had been going about it all wrong. Maybe he just hadn't focused enough. Whatever it was...it had to be fixed.

So Hugo tried again. He focused his mind and all of his remaining energy on the cage door and simply _willed _it to move. He tried and tried until tears of frustration formed in his eyes. He tried until he was an inch within insanity, but still he did not give up! What was the use? He couldn't do it.

His magic had deserted him. Somehow, somewhere, he had expected this to happen.

What he _hadn't _expected to happen was for luck to be on his side for once. Somehow, the Gods had stared down at poor little Hugo Weasley and had given him a good card out of pity. He knew that it was just his lucky day, knew that this was _exactly _the time to try and escape. Because somewhere out there, there was someone watching over him.

There was a huge explosion in the next room where the man and his friends were working on getting the ritual ready. The explosion had been very loud, so loud that many of the children had covered their ears and shrieked. A little bit of the glass that covered one side of the window had cracked and there was a little bit of black acrid smoke floating under the crack of the heavy door.

Hugo knew this was the _perfect _distraction.

The man would be busy dealing with whatever had gone wrong with the ritual. That gave them time. That gave them a little bit of cover at least! He could work for as long as the man was working. Maybe the man would even clear the room – yes, he could hear footsteps going upstairs – until the smoke went away. And then they'd have a clear route of escape.

They were going to have a clear route of escape!

Hugo concentrated, this new sense of hope and excitement fulfilling him. He concentrated even harder than he had the last time, hoping against all hopes that this time his magic would somehow come back and help him open the unmoving heavy iron cage door. Maybe his angel, the person or God watching over him would help him just one last time. Just one more stroke of good luck, and he would never ask for anything ever, ever again.

And very, very slowly, much to Hugo's astonishment, the bolted lock started to click open. 


	17. Lights, Camera, Action

**Chapter Seventeen: Lights, Camera, Action**

For a whole of ten seconds, nothing was said on the scene. It was safe to say that Harry Potter and his Aurors were completely confused. What should they have been? Draco bloody Malfoy had thrown them in for a loop! They had been working twenty four hours a day on this investigation and all of the leads and clues they had found led them right here, to this heavily guarded door that they had just broken through.

And what had Malfoy done? He had exclaimed that the man they were looking for wasn't here! The bugger hadn't even gone inside, how could he know such a thing?

It took Harry exactly twenty seven seconds to get over his confusion and for anger to bloom. It had been _Malfoy's _information and _Malfoy's _bloody lead that had gotten them to this door. It had been on _Malfoy's_ word that Harry had invested all of his time and a fair bit of resources on this particular part of the mission. They had worked tirelessly at the Department of Mysteries. His Aurors had been working night and day. They had scouted this place! How could Malfoy just waltz away like that? The least he could've done was stayed and made _sure _this was a dead end they were facing.

Besides, all of the information they had _did _point to this very place. Harry was more than certain something of fruition would come from raiding this abandoned boarding house in the darkest reaches of Knockturn Alley. There just had to be. It went against all common sense and logic to assume there was nothing here.

Harry knew if he didn't go along with the plan he had spent so many hours formulating with the best Aurors available in his department, he would be doing Hugo a great disservice. And that was the last thing he ever wanted to do. It had become his mission, his prerogative to find Hugo Weasley. It was almost atonement for not having been able to save his best friend from dying all those years ago. Perhaps if he managed to bring Hugo back home, he'd be forgiven for not being there for Hermione the past five years.

So _Malfoy_ could go fuck himself.

"All clear," he heard his deputy head confirm from the other entrance to the house. "Waiting for signal to proceed."

Harry didn't hesitate sending over the green light. They were going to have to go through with the raid without Malfoy. Harry reasoned that Malfoy had probably had a good reason to bail on them. The man was clearly fickle and had his own way of doing things, but that didn't mean Harry had to follow the blond git on every word. Besides, Malfoy had probably been hopped up on pain medication. He probably hadn't been thinking straight. He would have been a liability if anything.

At least, that was what Harry told himself to settle his conscience.

They rushed in the front door, the other strike teams doing the same. The building was completely surrounded from every corner, every possible angle. There was no way that anything would escape them today. This mission would be a success if it was the last thing Harry ever did. Almost every single head in the Auror department was present for this, so there wasn't really much of a chance that they could screw it up.

They passed an annihilated door. One of his Aurors kicked it in – Probably Basil, as the man had always been a little bit enthralled with being dramatic. Ten Aurors followed Basil into the room to investigate, wands covering every angle of possible attack. Everyone was on high alert and Harry was proud of his team. They had worked and trained hard for this. Every single minute of practise, all the hard effort, had been leading to this.

And they were here now, fighting like a well oiled machine.

Harry's heart began to thump as it always did on these kinds of important missions. Adrenaline pumped through his veins. If there was anything Harry loved in life, it was this feeling. This dreaded anticipation before they finally achieved something great. Harry hadn't failed many missions over the course of his career and he supposed this wasn't going to be one of them, either.

Malfoy had told them the basic layout of what most of the boarding houses resembled. He had outlined it in great detail to Harry's logistic analysts and they had strategized together what the best approach to raid would be.

There were three floors to the boarding house. The ground floor, which Harry was currently on, the second floor – which the team that had penetrated from the roof would scope through, and the basement.

Malfoy had said the most logical place to keep the children locked up would be on the basement floor.

Harry had decided that his team, the one that had broken through the front, would proceed to the heart of the house and invade the basement chamber. They would be charged with the task of bringing the kids safely out of the house. That left the roof team to take the second floor, and the team that had entered in the back to scout the ground floor.

Overall, Harry thought the plan was simple, but that it would work.

The psychopathic kidnapper wouldn't know what had hit him. Even if he had been anticipating the Aurors to attack, there was no way that he would be able to defend himself against this many highly trained men. Harry and his team would be out with the children before anyone knew it and the man would be behind bars in Azkaban before the day was over. The chances for success were very high in this case. Harry was confident that they would manage perfectly.

As they approached the centre of the house, Harry found the door that led down to what was unmistakeably the basement. With a quick scan, he gestured for the Unspeakable to go ahead and work on getting the door open.

The team of twenty and Harry stood there with baited breath and pounding hearts as the Unspeakable performed the complicated wand work necessary to get through the door. In that uncertain moment, that fleeting scary moment, Harry felt as if the Unspeakable might fail and then their mission would surely be over. But the moment passed and the door clicked open, much to Harry's relief.

Stepping in front of a stairwell that led into darkness, Harry stared down into the pit where he knew Hugo and countless other children waited to be rescued. This was it. This was the end of their long journey. It would all be over in a matter of minutes.

And with that, Harry took the first step down to the end of the beginning.

/

Hugo was surprised when the cage door swung open.

He hadn't actually expected to have managed! He had really thought that his magic had abandoned him to die. He wouldn't have blamed the magic either at that moment, because cowards clearly didn't deserve magic. But Hugo wasn't a _complete _coward – he had gone through with the plan, after all! Perhaps that was why his magic had come back to him. Maybe he did deserve it after all.

He slowly scrambled out of his cage, making sure to be quiet as he did so. He kept his eye trained to the door. It wouldn't do well if he got caught now. The man would surely kill them all where they stood, Hugo first for even attempting what he was trying to do. Hugo's heart began to pound. The man only had to look through the window to catch them, but Hugo hadn't heard the man come back downstairs. The room beyond was still filled with acrid smoke.

Hugo hurriedly, but quietly, rushed to the cage of the blonde girl. All of the children stared at him with wide eyes. They hadn't actually thought that he'd have managed to go through with the plan. But now that it was in action, there was no going back. They were almost relieved that _something _good was happening for them, something in their favour, even though it might end up blowing up in their faces and getting them killed. The wrath of the man wasn't a pleasant thing to face they knew from experience, but they were already goners anyways.

It wouldn't hurt to go out with a fight.

Well, it would hurt very, very much, but at least this way they had some chance of survival. They trusted Hugo, and Hugo very much trusted them. So, instead of rushing towards the door and saving himself – something he knew he probably had a greater chance of doing unnoticed than if all of the children escaped – he tried very hard to open the lock of the blonde girl's door.

She was staring at him curiously, but beyond that she did nothing else. Hugo managed to shift the lock a little bit, but he was completely exhausted! He couldn't do it...he couldn't possibly manage to get all of the cages open, at least not in time. They didn't _have _that much time. Hugo would have to manage somehow, even if it was impossible.

Then it struck him. The blonde girl had magic too. "You have to concentrate with me if you want to get out," he whispered to her. She looked at him for confirmation and he nodded eagerly. "Here, concentrate on the lock right here," he gestured.

And soon, with their combined efforts, the lock began to shift.

The blonde girl seemed surprised that she and Hugo had managed to get the lock open. She hadn't been sure if the plan would actually have worked. She had just gone along because the other children had needed a little bit of hope before the end had come their way. The girl knew that the end had been impending, unavoidable, something they just couldn't run from. But it seemed for the first time in a long time, she had been wrong.

She helped her newest friend open the locks of the other cages. It went quite a lot faster when all of the children worked together. One by one, all of the children managed to release themselves from their cages – each harbouring a wide grin on their face. This development was fantastic!

When they were all free of their confinements, they stared at Hugo and waited for instructions as to what they were supposed to do next. Hugo had been the mastermind behind their escape. He was the one with the plan, the one with all of the answers. They had doubted him at first, yes, but he had proven himself more than capable. They trusted that whatever he had on his mind would probably work.

They had never felt so elated.

Hugo himself was quite elated. _He _had doubted the success of his plan, as well. But now stage one had been completed successfully. They had managed to do part of the impossible! Now all they had to do was go through the door and hope that the man was too occupied to notice that they were missing from their cages. It was just their luck that something had gone wrong for the man, distracting him.

Only... were those footsteps they heard on the stairs?

"Children!" they heard the man call. "I've a surprise for you! We're going to have a _party!_"

All of their eyes widened simultaneously. Their hearts began to speed up in panic and a cold sweat broke through the circle of children. They hadn't expected the man to become unoccupied so shortly. They weren't prepared for this little glitch in the plan. Whatever good luck Hugo might have had a few moments ago, it was clearly all gone. This was the worst, this was something he couldn't handle...

But nonetheless, he was brave now, so he would have to deal with it. "Hold the door!" he hissed as quietly as he was able.

/

Hermione was more impatient that she should have been, waiting for Draco to be finished questioning the undeserving bitch brat in the holding cell. It was completely understandable that she was impatient, of course. It was something that had become natural to her wherever annoying things were concerned. And Manny? Well, she was annoying thing number one.

She sat there in her chair just outside the door, jiggling her leg to some unknown rhythm in her mind. She tapped her fingers against the arm of her chair nervously. Whatever Draco had wanted to get from the girl had better be useful. If it hadn't been, Hermione would make sure to cut all her nasty looking hair off.

She didn't doubt for a second that she would actually do something so crazy.

It was all she could do to remain quietly in her chair. She wanted to shout, scream obscenities, get up and be destructive. She had no idea what had gotten into her, but at that moment she really didn't care. She had _years _of frustration and anger all pent up inside her little body. It was only natural that she snap under this kind of situation. Yeah, she was snapping, alright.

It didn't matter if she was snapping or not. All that mattered was that Draco got what he wanted and in a timely fashion. Apparently, this was important and she'd just have to trust him on it. So she waited, silently cursing the man for taking to so long. Couldn't he have at least allowed her to come in and listen?

Right. He had done that, but she'd screwed it up. Why was she snapping? Why did he care if she snapped anyways? Right... because she was fucking up the investigation. God damnit! When had she become so useless at everything?

She took a deep breath to calm her nerves. Her entire body was tingling with anticipation. Somehow she just knew that today was a very important day, that today everything would be over. Somehow, she just knew that Draco would eventually make things come together. It didn't help the rush of adrenaline that was already flowing through her veins. Her body told her to get up and run, to burst through the door and fight her enemies. Her mind told her to sit still and wait for Draco or suffer the expensive consequences.

Suddenly, a door was slammed open, crashing against the back of her ill placed chair. It nicked her shoulder and almost sent her sprawling to the floor. Tears automatically sprang to her eyes and she let out a low string of curses. Looking up, she saw Draco's unfocused eyes staring at her and his flushed cheeks.

"Geeze, Granger," he muttered, pulling her up from the floor. "Sorry!"

She didn't care. All she cared about now was him telling her what he had found out that the Aurors hadn't managed to get out of the girl. She had always assumed from the start that Manny had outlived her purpose, but now she was glad that she had kept the bitch locked up. Perhaps she had been of some moderate use after all.

"What's going on-" she started to ask. But Draco didn't give her the opportunity to question him. Instead, he just grabbed her by the hand and began dragging her towards the lift. She had to scramble to keep up with his pace. When they reached the lifts, he began jabbing at the button viciously, just like she had not even half an hour ago. "What the hell, Malfoy? What's wrong?"

"Man. Street. Have to go...Fucking lift!" he growled. Instead, he dragged her to the stairwell, and they began to run up the stairs. "No time, Granger! Keep up!" he shouted over his shoulder.

How the hell was he running so fast up the stairs when he had been on his death bed only a short while ago? Hermione wondered what kinds of other tricks the man had up his sleeve, but then decided immediately that she really didn't want to find out. She was already out of breath and they'd only gone up about four flights of stairs. She didn't know how much more she could go. She was horrendously out of shape.

Lack of sleep, take out, and improper nutrition were really beginning to take their toll.

Suddenly, Draco took a sharp left and exited the stairwell. She was barely behind him. "Hold the lift!" he shouted to someone.

_Praise the Lord! _

They could take the lift. The exercise had been an embarrassing experience. She wondered if he would comment on it, but he was much too distracted. Instead, he just jabbed continuously on the Atrium button and impatiently waited for the door to close. All she could do was stand there and pant, clutching the stitch that had formed in her side. But he seemed completely unfazed. In fact, besides his ruffled hair and pink cheeks, he looked absolutely normal. Everyone in the lift was staring at them, but he didn't seem to notice that as well.

The doors had barely opened when he grabbed her hand and pulled her out before everyone else was even aware of what happened. They began running down the length of the Atrium to the apparation points and she was strongly reminded of escaping the Ministry during the war. Except, then she'd had a valid reason for all the exercise. Now, she had no fucking clue what was going on.

The guards there didn't even bother stopping them or commenting on the disturbance they were making, the attention they were drawing from everyone. Apparently, this was a common occurrence where Malfoy was concerned.

When they reached the apparation points and Malfoy had apparated them to her house, she was really thrown for a loop. She grabbed his arm and tugged him to a stop. "What is going _on, _Malfoy?" she asked him.

"No time to explain," he panted, showing that the exercise had put him under some kind of strain as well. "Got to go. Stay here, Granger, I'll come back for you."

He'd barely finished talking before he started running like a mad man down the street. She had no idea what was going on, but decided to take his word for it when she realized she couldn't run after him at the pace he was going.

/

When they reached the bottom of the staircase, Harry knew that his Auror team was knotted in a tense ball of nerves. He could almost feel the tension rolling off of them and realized that he was in a similar condition. This was the end. This would be the end of it all...

"Charge down in three," he gently whispered. He had no doubt that they'd heard them. "Three." They'd worked on this _forever. _"Two." He checked around himself for any visible sign of a trap. "_One." _Two Aurors blasted the basement door out of the way and they all burst through the opening.

The force split into a well practised group of three, charging into separate directions of the basement as required, searching for any sign of the captive children. The basement was adequately large. It seemed to be composed of three rooms – the main room where they all stood, and two separate rooms on either end of the basement, off to the side. Harry immediately charged towards the left, while another group went towards the right.

They were all silent, the sounds of their footsteps barely audible against the concrete floor. They were all alert to the imminent danger that was clearly present in the basement. They knew that above them, Aurors were tearing through the abandoned house, looking for any sign of the man that lived and operated here. Harry thought that perhaps they might have even caught him already.

All Harry had to do now was focus on finding the children. If he did that, then his mission would be complete and they all could go home.

Giving the sign for two of his Aurors to blast apart the door to the left side of the room, Harry burst into the side chamber, debris still settling from the force of blasting the door. It took Harry's eyes a minute to adjust to the darkness, even with a dozen well placed lit wands. But he was immediately disappointed. This was not where the children were kept, that was for sure.

The room seemed to serve the function of a very disgusting looking kitchen. There were buckets upon buckets lined against the wall. All of them seemed to be dirty with what appeared to be some kind of porridge like substance. Was this what the bastard had been feeding the children? Harry stepped closer to examine the buckets that must have served as dishware.

"Take a sample for the labs," he ordered one of his Aurors. One immediately stepped forward and began to carefully take a sample of the disgusting looking substance. Harry almost felt sick. The smell coming from the buckets was _putrid. _

"I think we've found something, sir," came a voice through their communication devices. He immediately rushed out of the room and found one of his Aurors gesturing to the room off the right side of the basement. An Unspeakable seemed to be removing wards off the door.

Harry's heart began to pound once more, forgetting his disgust. They'd found the location of the children. It was action time.

When they burst through the door, Harry felt that this was it. They were going to be successful, _finally, _and then he'd show Malfoy how right he was in sticking around and going through with the case. Yeah, Malfoy would see that he wasn't completely riding off the blond's instincts. Harry could have instincts of his own.

But when his eyes adjusted and he heard the Auror next to him intake a breath rather sharply, he focused his eyes to survey the room.

The room was rather small and had a dungeon like quality about it. The walls and floor were made of concrete and held many a scratch marks on them. Some of the gouges in the wall appeared to have been made by finger nails, leaving chunks of skin, nail, and blood behind. The place had a filthy smell to it, a corner filled with a pile of old feces and vomit. There was a thick layer of dust on the floor. The ceiling appeared to be made of wooden panels. He could see the pairs of feet of his own Aurors above him, walking on what was probably the ground floor.

But the dismal condition of the room was not what surprised him and his Aurors. No, it was the two very dead bodies that lay on the dirty floor. One appeared to be of a very tall – almost seven feet tall – man. He had a distended belly and a very large beard. The other seemed to be of a shorter, portly man, the same distended stomach and a large beard as well. They both seemed to have six fingers on their left hand.

They appeared to have been brutally murdered. The taller man had his neck severed almost completely off. It appeared to be a brutal hack job. Harry could see the jagged skin and pieces of bone. The other man seemed to have been disembowelled, his intestines strewn about a few feet from his body. They both had had their limbs smashed in, judging by the awkward angles they lay. Both of their eyes had been gouged out, their tongues removed from their mouths.

It was a horrific sight to have seen. Harry had seen murders like this before during his time at the Auror department, of course, and on some level he was always prepared to see the brutality that occurred amongst humans. But it always unsettled him to witness this kind of cruelty. Who was sick enough to do something like this to people? They would have to take samples to figure out the identities of the men.

Harry received the confirmation of clearance from the two Auror parties on the floors above him.

Malfoy had been right. Neither the man nor the children were here.

/

So they were basically done for.

The man was coming down the stairs, clearly looking to talk or gloat to them about something – something important enough that they were apparently going to have a party about it. Hugo wondered if that was the man's way of saying that he was ready to perform the ritual to take away their magic. It probably was. The man was mental, after all. Only he'd think that that was something to celebrate about.

They did their best to hold the door. Some of the children even concentrated their magic against the door. Hugo hoped it would be enough. The man was powerful, after all, both physically and magically. Hugo knew he and the other children didn't stand a chance. He'd somehow have to make it work anyways, though. He'd have to try to figure out some way to get the rest of the plan to work. They'd come way too far to let the man win now. He couldn't let anyone else die, especially since escaping had been his idea to begin with.

So Hugo began to look for an escape route throughout the room. Perhaps they wouldn't need to use the door to escape. Maybe there was some way that they could go through the walls. Maybe there was an opening, or something.

As the children held the door as best as they could, Hugo began to quickly survey the room, the blonde girl encouraging him to hurry along. She said that she'd help the rest take care of it. He should just focus on finding a new way out of there. He took her advice and began to focus on the walls.

The whole room was built with concrete. There were no openings, not in the walls, not in the ceilings, and not in the floor. There was no window, no way to let air in except for the door from which the man would be coming through any moment now. Tears began to prick his eyes as he noticed their predicament. This was all his fault.

"Come on, you have to think," the blonde girl whispered to him. Some of the other children also nodded, murmuring their assent. For some reason they seemed completely confident, determined in Hugo's abilities even when Hugo knew he was going to fail now. "You can do it."

He knew for a fact that he couldn't do it. How were they so confident in abilities that Hugo didn't even have to begin with? How could they trust him so closely? Hugo barely even knew them, hadn't known them for all that long. But he knew that they'd been through a whole lifetime of miseries together, had seen things together that just couldn't ever be undone. They had bonded over atrocities. Perhaps that is why they were putting their lives so willingly in his hands.

Either way, they were going to be dead. He might as well try his absolute best to get them out of the mess he had put them in.

Maybe there was still hope for his plan to work.

"Hey, you little shits!" they heard yelled at them through the door. They stared up at the little cracked window at the top of the door to find the man staring down at them in horror. "What the hell do you little fucks think you're doing? OPEN THIS DOOR!" They all only pushed the door shut as hard as their little bodies and limited magic were able to. They stared at Hugo desperately, hoping he had some kind of plan to get them out of this mess.

But he didn't.

He quickly ran his hands over the smooth concrete, hoping against all hopes that there was something there that would give, that perhaps an opening had just been hidden away from his sight by magic. The man began to pound at the door and the children whimpered, staring imploringly at Hugo to hurry up. But Hugo had run out of options and there was nothing more he could really do for them now.

Yet he still tried, still searched for a way out that wasn't there in the first place. But there was no use. The walls were smooth, the floor was just solid concrete, and there was no way he was going to be able to reach the ceiling without the help of the other children. That was the issue. There was no _time _for him to come up with another escape plan and there was nothing at his disposal to improvise with.

Then the man began to _really _pound at the door. The door began to budge, the window cracked even further. The children began to cry, screaming wildly at each other to hold on. It wouldn't be long now, they hoped, Hugo would find them a way out.

But when the door gave in an inch, and the man's sixth finger poked through, Hugo had no choice but to throw his entire weight at the door, helping the rest of the children budge it securely shut. He concentrated as best as he could to throw his magic at the door. Perhaps his magic would keep the man out for a little while longer. Maybe his magic would save them somehow.

The man screamed wildly and Hugo realized that one of his fingers had been severed by the force of the door shutting. That was _really_ bad! He was howling and pounding, clearly angrier than he had been before. There was no hope for them. They had killed any chance of kindness.

The blonde girl kicked the severed finger away. Hugo knew that it was only a matter of time that the man found a way to get through.

Tears began to pour down Hugo's cheeks. "I'm so sorry," he whispered to the other children. They only stared back sympathetically and with a sense of panic and fear that was also present in Hugo's eyes. There was nothing more he could do except hope that the man just went away and came back later, giving them enough time to say their goodbyes.

But as always, luck was not on Hugo's side. Instead of giving them time, the man retreated and came back with what appeared to be an axe. He began to viciously hack at the door, making the children scream in terror. This was it. This was the end. There was no rescue, there was no escape. There was just this – getting caught and failing, even if he wasn't a coward anymore.

None of it mattered.

It looked like his plan was going to fail after all. 


	18. Run For it!

**Chapter Eighteen: Run for it!**

_Bang! _

The man was smashing the head of the axe into the already cracked window. Hugo was surprised that the window had held itself intact this long. Regardless, it was only a matter of time before it cracked under the man's strong blows. It would shatter and then the man would somehow find a way to open the door and get at them. Then what? Would they all be slaughtered on the spot, or would the man just start the ritual?

_Bang! _

A few more cracks appeared in the window and Hugo heard several of the children whimper. It was a strain to hold the door shut under the onslaught, but somehow they were managing. It was a miracle that they'd managed this long, even. Hugo didn't know how much longer they could possibly last. Sooner or later, something was going to give, and it definitely wasn't going to be the man's anger that cooled down.

_Bang! Bang! Bang! _

The door creaked, its hinges groaning. They could hear the man's harsh and heavy panting on the other side of the door, the labour winding him, his anger spurring him on. There was no way he wasn't going to hurt them when he managed to get the door open, managed to rip it straight off its hinges. They were all done for.

_Bang! _

"I'm so sorry!" Hugo whispered one last time, staring around at the other children. "I should've never thought that I could do this!" There were tears in his wide eyes, tears in every child's eyes. They stared at him, some of them muttering an acknowledgement. But there was no time for a proper consolation, because the man was hitting all the harder, all the more viciously.

Parts of the door were splintering already and Hugo realized that this was the last moment that he'd ever see his friends again. He had already let go of the hope of escaping. There was no way that any of them were going to manage to escape now, no matter how hard they tried. The task was clearly impossible. He had already resigned himself to the fact that he would never see his mother again, never be able to sleep in his own bed.

But all of that had been alright to some extent. He had always spent time with his mother, been nice to her, and made conversation when time had permitted. He'd never said a mean word to Manny and he'd always cleaned his room. He'd gotten to know those people, gotten to get acquainted with that lifestyle. So really, it was all just old stuff that he was leaving behind as harsh as that sounded.

It wasn't alright that he was never going to see his new friends again. That's what they were, they were _new. _He'd only just met them, even though they'd gone through a lifetime of adventure and horror together. Yet, he trusted them, even though they'd only been friends for such a short time. And they had trusted him, even now they trusted him. Even after he had so clearly failed him. They did not hold a grudge. He knew they were too nice to even think about such things.

He hadn't even gotten the chance to properly know them. They didn't even know each other's names! But somehow, they were all very close. They had drawn themselves together, slept on each other's laps, offered hugs and comfort where they could. They had resisted the pressures of their circumstance together and because of that, they were closer than siblings. And now it was all going to be over. Over before it had even started.

With a last resolute _bang _the window shattered and the children were showered with shards of glass. There was one round of screams from the little bodies before all fell silent. All that could be heard were heavy pants from both sides of the door. No one dared move a muscle. It was almost like a short period of calm before the storm began.

Oh, and once it did begin, it never stopped.

All too soon, the man began to pour a rain of blows from the axe to the now unstable door. The door heaved and groaned under the onslaught and Hugo knew that they really had no hope left now. The door was splintering at an alarming rate and the hinges were beginning to fall apart. The door was going to give in at any second now and then they'd be dead meat. Deader than a door nail...

It happened sooner than even Hugo had expected. The hinges of the door were blasted completely off exactly at the same time as the splittering in the middle of the door gave way to the man's blows. The door began to literally break apart in front of their eyes and they had to move out of its way as the heavy wood began to fall inward. Even though they'd scrambled away to the sides just as the door collapsed, they were still showered with splinters of wood, metal, and debris.

Their last mechanism of defence lay before them in a broken, crumbled mess, a cloud of dust still settling around it. They did not dare even utter a sound or a whimper. They were not ready to acknowledge what this would mean for them. Even though Hugo had seen it coming from a mile away, even though he had resigned himself to his fate, and even though this was inevitable – Hugo just wasn't ready to give up and die.

Fear and adrenaline began to sputter through his tiny veins. His body began to pulse with energy he never knew he had. He knew that this was his body's way of telling him that he had to fight or run away as fast as he could from here, because if the man managed to lay his hands on him, he'd be a goner. And no little boy wanted to be a goner!

But still, fear paralyzed him as the man took slow steps into the room, his feet causing little puffs of dust to raise itself from the floor and swirl around him. He looked absolutely murderous and frightening. Hugo _was _frightened, all the children were. No one moved for a split second, not even the man as he stared down at them. No one was sure what they were waiting for, all they knew was that if they moved something was going to give.

They weren't ready for that eventuality yet.

The man pinned them each with his murderous, disappointed glare, one by one. They couldn't help but shiver under his stern gaze. It wasn't good that he was disappointed. He was always the worst when he was this angry. They realized then that they'd probably suffer now, probably have the worst possible deaths that the man could come up with. There was no way that they wouldn't, no way that they'd survive this. They all looked lost and dejected, all except for the curious blonde little girl.

For the first time since any of them had gotten there, the blonde girl seemed to actually _be _there. She did not have the airy _gone _kind of look in her eyes anymore, like she always had had as far back as Hugo could remember. For some reason, she seemed almost as angry as the man. Hugo realized she was squeezing his hand quite hard as she stared lividly at the man. He didn't know what she was about to do, but he didn't like it.

It happened all at once. The girl patted his back reassuringly, giving him one of her trademark "it's alright, you can do it, I believe in you" kind of look, before she went and threw herself at the man, nearly tackling him to the ground in surprise. Then she stared around at them wildly screaming, "_Run! RUN!" _

And Hugo had ran without even realizing what it was that he was doing. He was out the door with the children following him and looking for some kind of exit in the blink of an eye. They ran across the large room that appeared to be the man's potions lab and found a staircase directly across the room. They were there in an instant, climbing the stairs as fast as their little legs would let them.

It wasn't until then, halfway up the stairs, that Hugo realized what had happened. The blonde girl, his _best friend, _had sacrificed herself for them. She had given herself up so that they could escape. And she had done it without a thought...she had done it for their safety, to ensure that they could get out even if she was stuck here forever. Hugo couldn't help but turn around to see how she was progressing.

Immediately, he wished he hadn't stopped. The man was hurriedly coming towards them, dragging the kicking and screaming girl behind him by the hair. She didn't seem to be making things easier for him. She struggled and yelled despite the pain she must have been in with him dragging her like that. She clawed at him with her nails, bit him as hard as she could, and even managed to draw a little bit of blood. He seemed undeterred by her efforts. In fact, he was still coming at them faster than they were able to get up the stairs.

Before Hugo had even managed to open the door and escape with the other children, the man was already upon them, grabbing the last boy in the line of escaping children, also by the hair. The boy screamed and this made the rest of them turn around as well. In the moment before Hugo managed to clasp the handle behind his back, he caught the eye of his friend. It was the other little boy that had managed to put his own fire out.

There was a resigned look in his eye, something Hugo had never seen before in a person. With a last nod to Hugo, the boy pushed himself viciously into the man and they began tumbling down the stairs, the little blonde girl in tow. "_RUN!" _the two captured children shouted together at the rest of them.

It was with tears in his eyes that Hugo scrambled through the door and ushered the other children out from behind him. It was a great pain to shut the door securely behind him, knowing that his two friends were down there with that evil man, fighting for their lives, fighting so that Hugo and the others could escape like they had planned. It took all of Hugo's willpower to drag a couple of chairs in front of the door, hoping it would hinder the man's progress in coming after them.

In reality, it was probably only slowing Hugo and others down than posing as a real barrier against the man, but Hugo did it anyways. Their only real chance of survival were the two little children, their friends, detaining the man long enough for Hugo and the others to get away far enough from their prison, far enough so that the man couldn't find them.

They would probably have to split up once they got outside. The thought made Hugo cringe.

They hurriedly moved away from the dungeon door, but didn't know where they were going. There were many twists and turns, so many confusing hallways that Hugo thought that they were probably lost and never going to manage to get out of there safely. The best thing he could do was follow a straight path and hope that they'd reach a front door somewhere.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a door burst open in front of them and a man stood in front of the children. He picked up Hugo, who had been in the lead, and raised him into the air before Hugo had a chance to fight or even realize what was going on. The other children behind him screamed but the man just silenced them with a wave of his wand.

"Are you Hugo?" the man whispered. Hugo didn't answer. He didn't even move. If this man was friends with the evil monster who had probably killed his friends downstairs by now, he was gone for. And he definitely wouldn't be helping this fellow get his way! "Don't be afraid," the man said, his voice suddenly a lot softer. "I'm Draco Malfoy. Your mother and I have been looking for you."

Hugo gasped. "Really...?"

The man named Draco only nodded. He gestured for them to come through the door that he had burst through. "You have to go through that door right there and turn right. The front door is open, you can't miss it." Hugo's heart lifted at the directions. Maybe he'd be free after all. "Tell me, Hugo," the man whispered, his voice urgent once more. "Is the man that brought you here still here?" Hugo nodded. "Where is he?"

Before Hugo could answer, there was a humongous crash, a high pitched scream, and a thunderous yell. It made them all jump, even Draco. In a matter of seconds, the man was present in the doorway they had just entered through, still holding the blonde girl by the hair. She was all bloodied and a huge injured mess, but it seemed like she was still alive. He could see her eyes moving still, at least.

"Well, that answers it," he heard Draco mutter. "Alright, Hugo, remember the directions I gave you?" Hugo nodded. "Go then! Take the others with you!"

And then they were all running, all five of them in the direction that Draco had told them to go. If he hadn't been lying then the front door would be open. They ran as fast as they could, dodging around chairs and dusty tables. When they rounded the corner, they all could see the flood of light on the wooden floor. They ran towards it desperately, as if they would be caught by the evil man if they slowed down for even a second.

The man named Draco hadn't been lying. The front door was wide open.

And when Hugo took his first few steps out into the familiar street, breathing in the freshest air he had probably ever had, tears once again poured down his cheeks. They were both of happiness at finally having escaped his dire situation and of sadness, for everything he had seen and lost. Linking his arms through the arms of his friends, he walked down the street towards what was unmistakeably his house. He had a limp, he was bleeding, and he was very, very dizzy, but he was going home.

He was free.

/

It was probably the most intense moment Draco had ever experienced in his entire life.

Sure, he had taken down Death Eaters in his day, had lived with the Dark Lord for a year, had chased criminals all over the world (and all throughout Wizarding/muggle Britain), and he had even spent a year with the prospect of his parents' death over his head! Yes, he had been through quite a few stressful experiences and encounters. But this truly had to be number one on his list.

As he stood across from the man who had attempted to kill him in the most brutal of ways, he realized that he wasn't afraid anymore. There was no onset of panic, no realization that he was facing the most powerful wizard since Voldemort himself. There was only a subtle clarity that began to fill his senses. The man that stood before him – for he was but that, a man – should be _sympathized _with, not feared.

It took but a glance for Draco to determine that the man was clearly deranged. Yes, he was powerful, more powerful than Draco had encountered in a long, long while. That didn't change the situation, though. The person that stood before him was merely a shell. It was a ghost of a person – a psychopath, a mentally deranged, sick, twisted psychopath.

So as he stood there, calmly observing the heaving chest of the angry man, the way that the deformed bloodied hand that should have had six fingers clutched the hair of the motionless blonde girl, who was still dripping blood – he realized that this battle could easily be won. Even if Draco was lacking in power in comparison, even if he didn't know as many dark curses and spells as the man so clearly did, he had tools the man probably never would have.

Logic and rationality.

Nevertheless, his calm facade did drop a few inches when the man remorseless threw the girl's body out of his pathway like a sack of potatoes. He hadn't even blinked! He had simply thrown the girl away as if she were an inanimate object or the like. Draco didn't know how far the fucker was, only that he had gone far enough not to realize that humans were living, breathing things. They could not be discarded like that.

And then the fighting began.

He had only taken a few thudding steps towards Draco, only lifting his hand to send the purple coloured curse towards him, but Draco had been prepared for this. It only took him a split second to cast his strongest shield charm and duck out of the way for extra safety, while sending a curse of his own.

The man was enraged, Draco could immediately tell, and this was affecting his spell casting. His spells were sent with much more destructive force than needed to complete their task and with horrendous accuracy. Many of the spells weren't fired even _close _to Draco's form. They hit the ceilings, the windows, walls, even the floor – tearing away at the already rotting wood, ripping away entire chunks of the ceiling and wall.

Nevertheless, Draco was extremely thankful for the black blade on his back that gave him an additional circle of protection and gave him an extra power source should he be too tired to stand on his own. Draco didn't doubt that without the sword, he was nowhere near a match for the psychopath before him. The fucker was powerful, that much Draco knew.

That's what he'd have to do. He'd have to get the bastard to use up his power, display everything he had in his arsenal. And then Draco would find his weakness and strike. It was as good a plan as any, except for the fact that the psycho only seemed to want to destroy Draco and everything around him. There was nothing Draco could do about that. He'd just have to wait, even if that meant having the house fall down around them. At least in that last case scenario the man had an equal chance of getting crushed by the rubble as Draco did. Unless he knew some kind of strange kind of magic, which he probably did.

_He hides! _the sword hissed angrily.

For the first time in his entire relationship with the sword, Draco had no freaking clue what it was talking about. Hide? What did it mean _hide? _The man was standing in front of him plain as day, firing spells and curses his way that Draco was barely managing to dodge at this point. He wasn't hiding anything, really.

That was until Draco really took a close look at the fucker. It seemed as if he was shimmering from top to bottom. Draco had seen this kind of shimmering before, of course, every Wizard who worked more than 60 hours a week had been acquainted with it at some point over their careers. Women used it on a daily basis.

It was unmistakeably a very strong glamour charm.

While dodging the multitude of spells the bastard was sending his way, Draco realized he had some quick thinking to do about how to get out of the situation he had just waltzed into without a plan. Of course, his timing had appeared to be perfect for little Hugo and the other children. What they had been doing wandering around the house with a murderous psychopath chasing after them, Draco did not know. But he was nonetheless glad he had found them just in time, it seemed.

The man was clearly hiding his identity; there was no doubt about that. Clearly there was need to hide one's identity in a situation like this. It was the smart thing to do, of course, since a glamour was much more reliable and permanent than polyjuicing, and preferable for those who had a tendency to go overboard with transfiguration. But Draco also knew the fundamental principles of magic. All Hogwarts students did. It was the first thing they'd learned in Charms class.

_Gildrag's Law of Proportion: Invariably, the strength of a spell is directly proportional to the number of spells cast in the measure of one square minute if casting is done in the space of a continuous interval. (IE: One hundred spells cast in the space of ten minutes will be ten squared, or a hundred times weaker...) _recited Granger in her know-it-all voice within his head.

So it was obvious that the strength of his glamour charm was wearing off due to his insane spell casting. Now all Draco had to do was either wait until the entire glamour charm wore off, which could take forever and he really didn't think the building would last that long, or he could just end the spell himself. But that option didn't seem all that likely either and he'd probably just piss the guy off.

But he decided to try anyway.

He quickly cast a nonverbal _finite _at the man and was insanely surprised when it actually made contact. Two things happened at once. First, the glamour charm was removed and Draco was shocked beyond words and action at the identity of the psychopath. Second, the man struck Draco with a curse that sent him flying straight back against the wall, falling to the ground with an earth shaking crash.

He didn't even react in pain as he was supposed to, he was that shocked about who he was actually staring at. It could potentially be a mistake. Perhaps the man was drinking polyjuice potion and _then _glamouring himself to look like someone else. But the likelihood of that was...just that. Unlikely. Anything would be better than believing who stood in front of him, though.

It seemed the man had finally realized that his glamour charm had been removed. After removing Draco's wand from his person (which Draco did not resist, as he was still in shock), the man acknowledged Draco's inability to speak with a slow spreading sick smile.

"Surprised, little Malfoy?" he asked after removing the concealing charm he'd had on his voice. "It can't have come as too much of a shock to you, I hope. I certainly thought I'd given myself away to your shrewd senses when we'd met the other night." He only laughed at Draco's inability to respond. "What, did Granger catch your tongue, too?"

"You're supposed to be dead," Draco commented blankly.

The man only laughed in his face again. It was a strange, cold empty laugh, something that he wouldn't have expected to hear from the person that stood before him. Then again, he wouldn't have expected _anything _from the man that stood before him. Mostly because he was supposed to be dead. Secondly because he had been kind in the past... Always on the side of the light.

Yes, Draco was shocked.

"For all intents and purposes, I _did _die that night, yes."

The man began to pace in front of him, seemingly restless. Draco would recognize that gait anywhere. All pureblood wizards learned it from a very young age. If pressed, Draco could imitate the walk perfectly. The straight blond hair, the unmistakeable blue eyes, the silver chain with the weird pendant that he'd pulled out from under his shirt...

There was no confusing who this man clearly was.

But then there were many things that did leave Draco's mind and senses confused. There was a distinct emptiness to the man's blue eyes – as if he were dead. There was a crazed tint to his expression. He was clearly haggard, clearly deranged, and unkempt in every sense of the word. Not to mention the sixth finger that looked as if it had been amputated. That was clearly a new addition. Whatever grace this man had held in the past was clearly gone now. He had always been a touch crazy, but now it was far past that. He had delved into lunacy.

Draco felt a surge of pity flow through him. "Dear God, Lovegood. What's become of you?"

Xenophilius only grinned crazily back at him, the dementia clearly apparent in his eyes. Whatever there had been in the man to save was no longer there. He was too far gone, too consumed by the Dark Arts. Draco had seen it happen to many wizards over the war, his Aunt Bellatrix and Voldemort prime examples. He was just surprised that a wizard like Lovegood could manage to do something so...wrong, especially when he had always been on the light side. How had he gained so much power?

"I've been making much greater use of my time, young Malfoy. More so than yourself, to say the least." Lovegood almost seemed _gleeful _at the prospect. If he expected praise or something like that, he had another thing coming. Draco was thoroughly disgusted, but curious nonetheless. "I can see the questions in your little mind. Don't fret, little one. I'll answer them all before I kill you."

So he had gauged that part correctly, Lovegood was going to kill him. Draco decided he could worry about that little detail when they got to it. For the moment, his curiosity had just gotten the best of him. He just needed to know what was bad enough to drop a wizard like Lovegood into this kind of madness. "Why are you doing this?" Draco asked carefully.

"This? _This?" _he exclaimed, gesturing around him. Draco just patiently nodded. "Perhaps you have not learned like your father. Power means _everything." _

Draco didn't understand. "Why kidnap, though?" he asked, shifting into a more comfortable position, stretching his legs out. Lovegood probably thought he was preparing himself to die. That didn't matter, it would work to his advantage later. "What's the point of kidnapping these children if you're just looking for power? There are many Dark Arts you could use..." Draco lapsed into thoughtful silence.

"You've much to learn, but I see you're curious," responded Xenophilius with an air of superiority. "It's much too sad I'll have to kill you after this."

"The children?" Draco prompted.

"Ah, yes, the children!" He walked over to where the little girl lay motionless and kicked her with brutal force. Draco wouldn't be surprised if she had a few broken ribs as a result, but unable to move because she had clearly been petrified. Before Lovegood could notice, he silently drew out his sword and hid it under his outstretched leg. "These pathetic little creatures don't have their magic bound to them."

Draco's eyes widened and he paled. He fucker had been stealing children's magic! The act was unholy, definitely damaging to one's soul. To harm something as pure and innocent as a child was akin to slaughtering a unicorn to rob it of its blood. While the second wasn't completely unheard of, this was the first time Draco had heard of a case where someone had actually managed to separate one's magic from one's body. Since the two were intertwined, there was no physical way of removing magic without brutally murdering the victim.

And since children were young, their magic not having fully bonded to them, it was logically easier to remove their magic. It was a truly horrific way to die and Draco couldn't believe the man in front of him had successfully done it, had been about to do it again if Draco hadn't stepped in and stopped him. Such an act did not come without consequences. It was no wonder Xenophilius Lovegood was so insane.

"That explains your hand, I suppose," Draco commented in the most nonchalant voice he could muster, despite the fact that he was disgusted beyond belief.

"A little glitch," Xenophilius shrugged. "Something I was about to fix before you disrupted my ritual." He kicked the girl again and Draco winced on her behalf. "What, you feel pity for this little bitch?"

Draco didn't respond but Lovegood began to kick and he couldn't help it. He jumped to his feet. Before he could react, Lovegood had lifted his hand and the girl was lifted into the air. Before he could blink, she was dropped right onto him. He should have been prepared for anything, really, in this kind of situation he should have expected the unexpected. But hell, that shit hurt.

"There you are, the little runt is all yours," the psycho replied gleefully before turning away to examine something.

To Draco it seemed like he was staring out in space. It didn't matter, either way. Draco could take this time to heal the girl's injuries wandlessly. He knew that the sword would help him if he really needed, but he ought to save _that _energy for later, when he would have to escape.

As he examined the girl, Draco was swept with a strange sense of familiarity. He hadn't met this girl before, of course. This was the first time in his life that he was seeing her. But nonetheless, the nose, the eyes, the shape of the lips, her aristocratic features... it all bore resemblance to someone familiar. He looked up to find psychopath McGee staring at him in expectation. "Who is this, Lovegood?" he asked, playing the game Xenophilius obviously wanted to play.

"Aurelia Lovegood," Xenophilius replied. "My granddaughter," he added when Draco still had a blank look on his face.

"You mean..." Draco looked down at the petrified girl in his arms. Could it possibly be? "I did not know Luna had any children before she passed away."

"And risk exposing the bastard child to the world?"

Draco glanced up sharply at Lovegood at the tone of his voice. It held a much darker quality to it, a depth of pain marring its manner. Draco found that Lovegood's eyes seemed to be much hollower, more haunted, and darker than they had been mere moments ago. He wondered if it had to do with the death of his daughter.

"Aurelia was conceived in the dungeons of your Manor. The identity of her father remains undetermined. There were many who defiled my daughter that night..." Yes, Lovegood was in extreme pain, Draco could tell. His right eye was twitching and his head was bent all awkward. The horror of the story shocked Draco. He had never been aware of this happening. He had thought that Luna had gotten away relatively unscathed... "She died giving birth to that _vermin." _

It was clear that Lovegood was moments from losing whatever semblance of coherency that remained. Draco didn't know what to do, but he knew that if Lovegood went on a bender, he and the girl wouldn't survive this time. "I'm sorry, Lovegood. I wasn't aware of...your tragedy."

"No?" Xenophilius took a step closer to Draco and Draco had to inch back until he was pressed against the wall, Aurelia safely tucked next to his side. "I thought surely these horror stories was what inspired you to hunt the Death Eaters after the war. Did you ever wonder how easy it was to catch all of those Dark Wizards? How all those leads just seemingly fell into your lap?"

_No... It couldn't be..._

"Yes, I have been following you very closely, little Malfoy," Xenophilius said in a sagely voice, as if he'd been doing him a favour. "You've done a lot of my dirty deeds. I didn't even have to work hard. The Dementors easily sucked their souls with a mere suggestion."

Draco was truly shocked now. This was _too _much information to handle. "How could...How did you?"

Lovegood laughed, he actually _laughed. _"I wanted revenge. I did it for Luna. I needed them captured and you wanted to capture them, it's all very simple, little Malfoy. And now I'm going to kill you, for Luna. She would have wanted it." His voice sounded strangely sympathetic. Draco knew that this was the time to act.

"Don't taint her memory, Xenophilius. She wouldn't have wanted this, any of this," Draco said, wearily standing up, grabbing the sword as he went. He hid it behind his leg and he hoped the psycho hadn't noticed.

"Don't be silly, little Malfoy," Xenophilius said in a singsong voice that painfully reminded him of Bellatrix. "She would have wanted it all. She would've wanted the brat Weasley to die for burning our house down. For Zabini to have burned, for Lockwood to explode on the floor. _That _was lots of fun. If only you hadn't ruined it all..."

"You can stop this. You can still turn back now, it's not too late-"

"IT IS TOO LATE!" Xenophilius shouted. "Ever since that bitch was born! It's always been too late!"

Xenophilius started to advance, glaring at the prone form of his granddaughter on the floor next to Draco. Anger seeped through Draco, then. This man had made his life's work basically meaningless. Everything Draco had ever achieved had been a _lie. _Xenophilius had killed, maimed, destroyed the lives of many children...his own granddaughter... he had tried to sacrifice and kill his own granddaughter. He had tried to kill Hugo, a poor innocent child that hadn't done anything at all.

Draco stepped in front of the girl, raising his sword in front of him. Xenophilius stopped for a moment, as if calculating whether Draco was actually a threat or not. Perhaps he had seen the anger reflected in Draco's eyes, or the thinly veiled invitation to attempt to attack.

"Move aside," Xenophilius muttered. "Your turn can come soon enough."

_Cut him, _the sword began to whisper into Draco's ears. _Cut him where he stands, slay him! _

Draco didn't move, torn between the two commands. He was more than willing to draw on the sword's energies and use wandless magic to restrain Lovegood until the Aurors had time to come and overpower him completely. He knew he had the conviction to do so. Lovegood was fucking crazy. He deserved everything that was coming to him.

"You know, little Malfoy, I really did enjoy sending the Dementors on your father," Xenophilius gleefully whispered when he figured Draco would not step aside. Draco paused for a moment, shocked. His father was...supposed... to be in prison... "Yes, I see you are surprised. Don't be, his body is still there, rotting away."

Draco took a deep breath.

_Cut him! CUT HIM! _the sword continued to shout.

"Ah, and your mother!" This comment gave Draco real pause. He had never cared about his father, not in any real capacity since fourth year when he realized what kind of a psycho he really was. His mother however, he had always loved dearly. She had ended her own life when Scorpius had turned three and it had sent Draco into a deep depression. "I really enjoyed driving her insane."

"You didn't!" Draco yelled.

_CUT HIM, CUT HIM, CUT HIM!_

"Oh, but I did," he contradicted in joy. "I really enjoyed the finale, perfect touch don't you think?"

Draco couldn't think, all he wanted to do was lash out and –

_CUT HIM! CUT -_

"When she was driven so mad by my touch that she just couldn't help but end her own life in madness-"

Draco just wanted to end it all, wanted him to stop talking, wanted to just –

"I helped her do it too, little Malfoy-"

_CUT-_

And then he did it. He severed Lovegood's magic.

"Malfoy, no!"

He turned to find Potter standing in the door way with at least fifty Aurors behind him. He was stepping towards Draco, the other Auror's in tow, but it was much too late. The deed had been done. Xenophilius Lovegood was being drained of magic right before their eyes, all of his power flowing right into Draco's veins. He seemed surprised, probably had no idea what was going on.

The last thing he remembered after sheathing his sword was passing out right against Potter's shoulder before Potter apparated them away.

Then it was all darkness and Draco Malfoy was taken into oblivion.


	19. Three Weeks Later

**This chapter is dedicated to gravity01 for pointing out a very stupid mistake that I managed to somehow make. How? I don't know. But Draco Malfoy is definitely not a bachelor in this story. FIXED AS OF DECEMBER 16th/11. **

**Chapter Nineteen: Three Weeks Later **

_**THE DAILY PROPHET**_

_**WAR HERO REUNITED WITH SON**_

_It was just this past weekend when Hermione Weasley, war hero and best friend to Head Auror Harry Potter, was once again reunited with her son, Hugo Weasley. After an unfortunate kidnapping and a terrible ordeal, the once terrified mother has once again been put to ease, as have four other families thanks to the dynamic duo of Mr. Draco Malfoy and the aforementioned Harry Potter. _

_Daily Prophet's top breaking news reporter Beatrice Sacket was able to get an interview with the unfortunate mother._

/

"How does it feel to be reunited with your son, Mrs. Weasley?" the reporter asked.

Hermione smiled stiffly, not sure why she had let Harry persuade her into doing this. He had said that it would be rather good for the press, to show the world that she and Hugo were coping. It was all she could do not to pull Hugo to her tighter and bolt from the room completely. Instead, she forced herself to relax her shoulders, appear at ease, and give no inclination of her discomfort. She wanted this to go well just as much as everyone else.

"I'm very relieved, as you can probably imagine," Hermione responded, stroking Hugo's hair. Hugo didn't move, didn't give any indication that he was aware of the motherly gesture. But Hermione had become used to this in the past few weeks and she understood. "We were put through quite the ordeal."

The reporter nodded, scribbling something down. "What will you do now that this is all over?" The reporter smiled.

Hermione knew that the woman was only trying to be nice and comforting, but she really didn't want to be here. After all, she'd only had three weeks with her son all to herself, and that had been periodically punctuated with Aurors coming in to question them, healers, tests, diagnostics, testimonies... It had all been exhausting for both Hugo and her. But Hugo hadn't given any inclination that he minded as much as his mother so clearly did.

In all honesty, she didn't know how to respond to the woman's question. She didn't really know what she wanted to do with her life now that everything _was _over. She knew she needed change, knew that Hugo definitely needed something more than what their lives had been. She just didn't know what that would be yet.

"I'm not sure to be honest. But I do know that I won't be returning to my post at the Ministry of Magic. It hasn't been conducive to the life I want to lead with my son." Hermione softly kissed Hugo's dark hair. He leaned against her, showing for the first time that he was actually paying attention to what was going on around him. "And I plan to spend all of my time with my son." Hugo held her hand and she was able to put on her first genuine smile.

The reporter seemed touched by the display of affection between the mother and son. Who wouldn't be moved by such a sweet picture? Hermione didn't blame her. She felt like crying herself. Even though it was all over, she couldn't help but feel remorse for what her son had been through. She knew that Hugo would never be the same, _she _would never be the same. All they could do now was try their best to move past it.

"What can you say about the involvement of Mr. Malfoy?" the reporter asked once she had gathered her wits about her.

A puzzled look spread over Hermione's face. "What about it?"

"Well...My information says that you two have quite a history."

"We were not on friendly terms in school, yes," Hermione confirmed. "We were different people then, though. I'm not sure how this pertains to your question."

"How has your relationship with Mr. Malfoy affected the time you spent together during the course of the investigation?" the woman asked. It was clear she was digging for a story, which was her job after all, but Hermione didn't know if there was a story to tell.

Yes, the last couple of weeks had been a rollercoaster of activity and a whirlwind of emotion. Malfoy had tossed her up and down, not that she'd been any better. Could it really have been only a few short weeks ago that she'd collapsed on his office floor? So much had happened since then, yet there was so much left to be said. She hadn't seen Malfoy for the past few weeks, didn't know where he was or what he was doing. She had no idea when she'd see him again.

That was the thing, though. She knew she wanted to see him again. Desperately. If only just to thank him for all he'd done for her and Hugo, or something along the lines. Because he _had _done the world for her, even though he didn't have to. He had almost died and still hadn't given up. She'd never seen that kind of dedication in a man and it was really attractive.

It was too bad he was already married.

Shaking her head clear of the direction her thoughts were venturing towards, Hermione glanced up at the waiting reporter. "There isn't much to say there. He was kind and polite the entire time we spent together." Hermione shrugged.

That was close enough to the truth. He _had _been kind and polite. He'd also been evil and hotly passionate. He'd been something she hadn't even known she was looking for all this time. He'd been gentle when she'd needed it, a distraction when she'd craved it. He'd been goddamn attractive, that was for sure.

But that wasn't appropriate to say to the media.

"Then he did not go against you for your blood status?" the reporter prodded.

Hermione's blood boiled at the question. There they were again. Blood status – the one thing that just wouldn't go away in this society. Hermione didn't understand what the fascination with it was. Malfoy had clearly gotten over it so why was everyone intent on making him seem like the bad guy? He wasn't the Death Eater brat he'd been back at school and he definitely was nothing like the bully she'd endured for six years. He'd grown up and moved on. Wizarding Britain seriously needed to do the same.

"You know, I'm rather disappointed and _disgusted _in you and whatever establishment you're working for," Hermione said, her voice cold. The reporter's eyes widened. "Instead of celebrating the fact that Mr. Malfoy worked _tirelessly_ day and night to restore my son to me, you're intent on making him seem like a discriminating bastard."

"That's was not-"

"_Grow up! _Malfoy clearly has. He's done so much for our society, brought in so many criminals to face justice, and you lot still want to paint him in a corner for things he had been forced to do in the past!" Hermione was seething and the reporter was clearly scared. "Malfoy is an upstanding individual and I will stand by whatever he does _wholeheartedly_. I suggest you refrain from asking such derogatory questions in the future."

And with that, Hermione picked Hugo up into her arms and left the room. The interview was clearly over. She wasn't going to take part in any type of Malfoy bashing, not after everything they'd gone through! She realized that she'd probably overreacted, but she was still dealing with the stress and indecision. There was no way she was going to live down whatever the idiot reporter was going to publish.

Hopefully, it wouldn't be too bad.

/

_Mrs. Hermione Weasley reports wanting to leave her post at the Ministry of Magic and a preference to be called "Ms. Granger" once more , news that shocked many of our staff here at the Daily Prophet. As our readers are aware, we have been tracking Mrs. Weasley's career and personal life for the past half decade since the untimely demise of Ronald Weasley. _

_Beyond quickly climbing the ranks at her post in the Ministry of Magic, Mrs. Weasley has never once expressed the wish to revert back to her maiden name. We can only assume that this means she has moved past the death of her husband and back into the market of lucky single males. _

_We have it on good source that Ms. Granger expresses a deep affinity and liking in Mr. Draco Malfoy, expert wizarding criminologist and dark wizard tracker. An anonymous source reports Ms. Granger's obvious lust and adoration of Britain's most eligible bachelor. Beatrice Sacket reports the pair have grown close together over the course of the disappearance of Ms. Granger's son, who has thankfully been restored to his mother's hands. _

_What this means for Mr. Malfoy's happy marriage is too soon to decipher. We have never been given any indication to this date that the Malfoy power couple may just be walking towards the flames, but who can resist the charms of Hermione Granger? Only speculations can be made. However, Astoria Malfoy's reluctance to approach the press might just be quite telling._

_Rachel Madoras Skeeter. _

_/_

**THE DAILY PROPHET**

**MALFOY RETURNS TO PUBLIC EYE**

_The elusive Draco Malfoy has finally descended from his cloud of fine debauchery and elegance to grant the Daily Prophet a well sought out interview. After several dozen owls and personal visits, the Lord Malfoy finally sat down with Daily Prophet's head reporter Beatrice Sacket last evening to discuss his last case and his relationship with the also elusive Hermione Granger/Weasley. Ms. Granger was not available to confirm the facts of this article before publishing. _

_Mr. Malfoy appeared as suave and elegant as always expected of Britain's most sought after man, donning Malkin's newest fall collection. Despite his famous bad-boy attitude, we have it here on good hand that Mr. Malfoy appeared to be worse for wear. Surprisingly, rumours have quoted Mr. Malfoy saying he had sustained extensive injuries over the course of his last investigation and has not been sleeping well since. _

_The Ministry has been decidedly tight lipped about the investigation of the supposed kidnapping of one Hugo Weasley. No information has been released to the press or general public as of yet. No representative or source from either the Ministry or the Auror department has stepped forward to explain the finer (or any) details of the investigation, besides Auror Potter's statement to the Prophet that Hugo Weasley has been found, restored, and that the investigation has been closed. _

_Lord Malfoy's interview is our first insight into what might have actually happened. _

_/_

"Mr. Malfoy?" a woman called to him, startling him out of his thoughts. He almost growled at her, barely managing to restrain himself. He didn't know who the woman was, but he already didn't like her. Not that that was anything new. He didn't like _anyone _these days. He hoped his glare was menacing enough to scare the timid cat away, but she didn't budge despite looking like she wanted to bolt from there.

When she showed no sign of leaving him the hell alone or backing down to his creepy arse glare, he finally sighed. "Yes?" he asked her curtly, hoping she'd take the hint and leave him the fuck alone. He _really _wasn't having a good day. Or week. Year, really, if you wanted to get into that much detail...

"I'm...I'm Beatrice Sacket, from the Daily Prophet? You...um, I was informed that this was a good time for us to do the interview? That you agreed to..." She seemed like she wanted to cry. He felt relieved at this, almost. Perhaps the interview wouldn't last too long and she wouldn't ask annoying questions. At least he _hoped. _

But fuck, he'd completely forgotten about agreeing to do the interview. Potter had come to his house last night and had basically demanded that he agree to do this. Draco didn't really understand what the big fucking deal was or why Potter cared about the press on this case so much, but he hadn't had enough energy to argue with the son of a bitch.

Potter could be really fucking insistent when he wanted to be.

Draco just took it as part of the penance he had to pay. For the past three weeks, all that Draco had been doing was sleeping and going to the Auror department to deal with the fucking paperwork. God damn bloody paperwork! It was endless! And all of the other Ministry departments he had to appease – it was positively fucking painful. This entire past week had been a hellish nightmare, especially.

His life was a waking nightmare during the day, yes, but also during the night, where images would haunt him in his sleep. Sometimes he'd see his mother taking her own life. Sometimes he'd see his father – his body slumped and soulless.

Draco had gone to Azkaban to confirm what Lovegood had told him. The fucker hadn't been lying. His father was really a breathing corpse.

Draco hadn't felt anything at the discovery. Hadn't felt sad, afraid, or remorse. One could say he was in shock – he _did _have a lot of processing to do with all that he had gone through, after all. His life was essentially in shambles and his career was a farce. This little incident would just have to join the bloody long line to be dealt with in his overly tired mind. Nevertheless, the image of his lifeless father slumped against his prison cell wall haunted his mind when he was asleep.

But by far the most haunting image, the issue that was plaguing his mind day and night, was the psycho's face as he had sliced him, draining him of his magic, the sword cheering Draco on in his head. The act had felt so sinful, so dirty, and so _impure, _that Draco thought his soul might have ripped apart a little bit. He had fainted from the shock and impending exhaustion and had slept forever, afterwards just staring at his bedroom wall blankly for hours.

Then Potter had come to fetch him.

Apparently, draining someone of their magic was against the law and extremely fucking dark magic. Potter hadn't condemned him for what he had done, hadn't really commented about it at all. All he had done was take Draco to the Ministry to deal with the mountains of paperwork and legal barriers so that Draco wouldn't be charged with a life sentence and carted after to Azkaban.

But Draco knew he didn't deserve Potter's help, not that he didn't appreciate it. He was grateful and actually thought of Potter as a mate now for all the trouble the man had gone to for him. The matter still remained the same though. Draco had done the most unholy of deeds. It was almost worse than murder, stripping someone's magic away from them, their life essence! If only Lovegood had been aware of Draco's sword. He wouldn't have resorted to kidnapping to achieve his means.

Draco knew he was no better than the psychopath. They were one in the same.

"Mr. Malfoy?" he heard the woman call him again, snapping him out of his thoughts once more.

He stood up, a little disoriented. He had the tendency to lapse into deep thought regardless of the presence of others. This hadn't been the first time either. Ever since Lovegood had bashed his head in against the floor repeatedly, his head hadn't been quite right. Draco just hoped the damage wasn't permanent. One could never tell these things.

"Right this way," Draco said, walking away before the reporter even knew what was going on. He had no affinity for the press and all those that worked for them. Journalists could kiss his arse, really, for all the crap they were publishing these days. As he reached Potter's office, opening the door and entering without even knocking, he felt the reporter's eyes bore into his back. "I hope this doesn't last too long."

"Just a few standard questions..." the reporter muttered. What was her name again? It didn't matter.

It was already well past ten in the evening and most of the Aurors had already retired for the night. Potter was still there, though, working diligently on something at his desk. "Right, Potter," he interrupted. Harry didn't even look up. "Get the fuck out. We have to do that goddamn fucking interview."

This time Harry did look up with a sceptical expression on his face. "And why should I vacate my office, Malfoy?" Harry asked, pushing his glasses further up his nose in a severe way. At least, a poor attempt to be severe. Draco could see the amusement in his eyes.

How the man could always find something bright in his life, Draco had no idea. He himself had never had that kind of privilege. It had always been dark for him ever since the beginning.

Draco put on his best smirk. "Because you're my little bitch, aren't you? Run along to your wife. She owled me three times already this week!"

Harry's eyes widened when he took in the time and with a muttered curse, he was up and hurriedly packing up this things. He really was whipped. Ginny had definitely put him in his place. He wished he had that kind of relationship with someone... Well, not the whipped part, obviously. But the effort of someone caring would be nice once in a while. No one had ever cared enough about him in the past.

That was the thing with Slytherin's. They were a selfish lot.

When Potter left, he slumped down on his couch, not even bothering to offer the reporter a seat. He wasn't thrilled to be here. He'd rather be home, sleeping off his injuries, even if that meant seeing another nightmare. He was exhausted, even though he was sleeping at least twelve hours a day, eighteen on some if Potter let him get away with it.

"What can you tell me about your most recent investigation?" the reporter began, her voice as timid as it had always been. Draco wanted to scoff. That was _not _how interviews were supposed to be conducted. She really wasn't going to last long in this business. Politicians would chew her up and spit her out!

"What would you like to know?" he countered.

To his surprise, she had an immediate answer. "Can you confirm that Hugo Weasley was, in fact, kidnapped?" Her tone was suddenly much more bold, way more sure of herself. That was more like it.

"Yes," he said, his expression deadpan.

"And the Auror department managed to discover the identity of the kidnapper?" she ventured.

"Yes." His expression didn't waver – cool, icy boredom.

"Can you...disclose the identity?"

"Xenophilius Lovegood," he responded without even thinking about it.

_Shit! _Was he allowed to disclose that kind of information? He couldn't remember exactly what Potter had told him to discuss with the reporter in the interview, but he was sure that he wasn't supposed to reveal the psycho's identity. They had wanted to protect the little girl they had rescued, the blonde girl whose name he had already forgotten while dealing with the aftermath of her fucking grandfather.

The reporter seemed stunned into silence for a moment, not knowing how to respond. Draco didn't blame her. It was a farfetched story to anyone else, he supposed. Xenophilius Lovegood, editor of the Quibbler, who had reportedly died a few years back. Kidnapper? Definitely not! Psychopathic murderer? You've got to be kidding me. The man was just a little loopy, not dark arts material.

Not to mention he was supposed to be fucking _dead. _

It was the perfect disguise, he supposed, having that kind of good standing reputation. And Draco _knew _how the public would react to this news. They wouldn't believe it at first and when Potter would support it, they'd all go bat shit crazy and riot for a few days before it would die down.

And then the Lovegood name would have no respect attached to it any longer.

Despite having come so far after the war, despite having erased his name of sins, a lot of people still associated Draco with the blond brat who let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. He knew exactly how the Lovegoods would feel. His name had never gotten fully restored. There were still people in the street that would spit at his feet when he walked by. Not that Draco cared. Draco just understood.

"Is he not...dead?" the reporter tentatively questioned. She probably doubted his sanity, and just as well. He didn't really have all that much sanity left anyway, not with everything that had happened to him all these days. It was all just building up and threatening to collapse at any second. He probably would collapse at any second if this interview were to continue much longer. "I mean, he was reported dead in an accident a few years ago. Is that not right?"

"Yep. Faked it, obviously. He awaits trial in a few weeks time before the full Wizengamot and a full statement should be issued by the Ministry about the proceedings before then," he said in that same bored tone. Draco had lost complete interest in the woman. She seemed too stupid to last here. He wanted to be the one to chew her up and spit her out. If only she would _leave! _"Any more questions?"

"How did you manage to track...Mr. Lovegood down?"

Draco rolled his eyes. "Are you deaf? I _just _said that the Ministry is going to issue a statement about the investigation before the trail."

The girl visibly cringed and Draco felt some kind of sick satisfaction within him. Maybe she'd just end the interview here. He'd done enough damage as it was. Potter was probably going to sharpen his blade and murder him tomorrow when he read the Daily Prophet. Draco was in the habit of mucking things up lately, though, so he figured Potter would probably be used to it by now.

"What can you tell me about the relationship between yourself and Ms. Granger?"

Draco raised a brow. So they had come to that, had they? He wondered what Hermione had told the press, if she had even given an interview. If he knew Potter as well as he thought he did, Potter had probably forced Hermione to give the interview, just like he'd forced Draco to sit through this one. Potter and his obsession with good press... fucking bastard!

"What about it?" he asked, his tone not changing. He even added a little hint of impatience, as if he was annoyed with her for wasting his time. Which, truthfully, she really was.

"What can you say about the rumours that you two are romantically involved?" she said, getting straight to the point. Either she had figured out that he wasn't in the mood for bullshit, or she was a completely inept reporter, asking such direct and offensive questions like that. Draco was thinking it was more of the second option than anything else.

"Are you bloody _daft?" _he asked, standing up and glaring at her just the right amount. "I'm fucking married, you idiot!" He didn't want to think about the implications of what she'd just asked him. He knew there was no hope for him in that department. It made him a little sad to think about.

And with that he left the room, leaving her there in a blushing mess.

/

_Reports have it that Mr. Malfoy will be taking an extended vacation to spend time with his son, Scorpius Malfoy. He has not specified when he will be returning to work and what we can expect from him in the future. _

_For more information on the trail of Xenophilius Lovegood, please turn to page seven. _

_Rachel Madoras Skeeter_

/

**THE DAILY PROPHET**

**LOVEGOOD SENTENCED TO DEMENTOR'S KISS**

_Xenophilius Lovegood was sentenced to the dementor's kiss this morning before the Wizengamont after a lengthy six hour trial. Lovegood was charged with kidnapping, murder, and the extensive use of dark arts, with the full list of charges remaining undisclosed due to the graphic nature of the crimes. _

_Present at the trial as witnesses were both Hugo Weasley accompanied by his mother Hermione Granger, and Draco Malfoy, and four children whose names have as of yet been undisclosed. While the trial was not open for public viewing, both Mr. Malfoy and Ms. Granger report being satisfied with the proceedings. _

_Head Auror Potter, who was also present at the trial as a witness, gave the testimony that sealed Lovegood's fate to the hands of the Dementors. Lovegood will be administered the kiss on an undetermined date, with no chance of having a last request or to be visited one last time by family or friends. The Wizengamont determined that it would be a safety hazard for the public, as Lovegood poses as societal threat. _

_With the nature of this trial being so dark, it is understandable why it would not be open for public viewing. However, can we really determine whether Lovegood deserved to be given such a harsh sentence? Without a public trial, can the Wizarding world really say Lovegood got what was coming to him? _

_Some readers express the fear that his sentence was much too harsh – _

Draco immediately stopped reading, thrusting the four copies of newspapers away from him. He leaned forward, resting his head in his arms atop his office desk. The wood was cold against his cheeks and he realized he missed this, the perfect polished oak desk. He'd chosen it himself after his first successful mission all those years ago.

It had been when Astoria and he had still been somewhat happy in their marriage. Well, at least they'd tolerated each other. It had been before Scorpius had been born. It had been before he'd known his entire career had been built on _lies! _Before his life had been tainted by loneliness and misery. Definitely before scotch and firewhisky had become permanent features of his daily routine.

It had been much before Hermione.

But he really tried not to think about that. He really didn't want to dwell on the fact that it had been more than three weeks since he'd last talked to her. Sure, he'd briefly seen her at the trial when she'd come in with the tiny malnourished boy to help him through his testimony, which had been gruesome. He'd seen her from a distance in the Atrium, but had been gone before he could even think about approaching her.

He tried not to take it personally. She was probably all busy and stuff, serving her last few days at the Ministry before she quit. He glanced at the article that had been published with her interview. At least _some _of it hadn't been complete bullshit and lies. She actually was quitting her job, probably to spend time with her son now that he was alive and well enough. Draco wondered what she'd do with her life now, how she'd feed herself and her son. Surely she had it all worked out. Granger was a smart cookie.

But fuck! _Three weeks! _

He really didn't know why he even cared. It wasn't like she owed him anything at all. Sure, a thank you would be nice. Or a see you around. _Anything! _He felt like she'd left him in the dark without even saying goodbye. He deserved a goodbye, didn't he?

_Three weeks! _

He glanced towards the newspaper articles again and sighed. He supposed if some of it were true, then she had defended his name. Never mind that people thought he was having an affair with her now because of it. It still felt nice that she thought he was a changed person, even if he hadn't changed for the good.

No, he definitely hadn't. If she had any idea how much he had changed for the _worse, _she'd probably run away and never come back, probably file a restraining order, and flee continents. Oh, and Potter would kill him for that, of course. It was a moot point, because he hadn't seen her for three weeks, and probably would never see her again. Not like how he wanted to, anyways. Ministry functions would never be the same, at the very least. That was a plus, right?

He sighed again, louder this time. Yes, he _had _changed. He now had the magic of a very powerful psychopath flowing through his veins and fusing itself into his body. Draco had more power than he had ever imagined. Sure, he'd been a pretty good wizard before, but now? He could execute spells without thinking about it. His wandless magic had grown exponentially.

Draco was insanely powerful, but he didn't care for it. He hadn't _asked _for it. He'd just... he'd given into the pressure. He hadn't known that it would be like this, that he'd have turned Lovegood into a squib. It was partially why Potter had made sure the trial was not available for public viewing, so that no one would be able to question exactly _why _Lovegood wasn't able to conduct magic.

Potter had saved his arse, yes. Draco definitely owed him.

Draco was startled out of his thoughts by a knock on his door. That was rather weird. No one was supposed to know he was here. He had given his secretary a few weeks off, since Draco didn't expect to be back at work any time soon. So who could it possibly be? He hadn't told anyone he was going to be here. At least, he didn't think he had. He considered ignoring the knock for a moment.

When he heard the tentative knock again for a second time, he sighed. Nothing was going to come easy to him anymore, was it? He'd just have to continually drag himself through everything now. But that was fine. It was probably part of the large penance he had to pay. He might as well resign himself to his fate early.

"Come in," he said in an empty tone, not even bothering to look up at who was disturbing him as he continued emptying his desk.

"I hope you're not giving up Dark Wizard Hunting for good, Draco."

His head snapped up at the voice. Whatever he had been expecting, it certainly hadn't been that. His heart immediately started to speed up at the sight of her while hoping that nothing gave away his true reaction to her presence in his office. She'd only stepped out of that fire place about a month ago, hadn't she?

"Fancy seeing you here, Granger." He didn't stop emptying his desk, just to give his hands something to do so that she wouldn't notice the shaking. When he looked up, he realized she had a sad small smile on her face. "Is there something you needed?"

She opened her mouth, just staring at him for a moment, contemplating what she wanted to say. "I... I brought a few things for Scorpius," she finally managed to spit out. He couldn't help the disappointment from blooming in his chest at the words. She stepped forwards and put a black leather bag on his desk. "They're just books he said he was interested in, a few toys, and such..." she trailed off.

He tried his best not to look up at her. If he did, he'd certainly betray all of the turmoil going on inside his head. He didn't know exactly _what _he felt for her, but he knew that she didn't feel anything for him in return. Hell, he was surprised that she was even here after all this time.

"And I wanted to say thank you." He looked up at her in surprise. "For everything. I...I couldn't even put in words how much you've done for us, for me and Hugo..."

He raised his hand to stop her. "Then don't. It's really not necessary. Just doing my job." A strange silence filled the space between them. He didn't know what to say and apparently neither did she. It was freaking awkward. "Thanks for the gifts... for Scorpius," he said, eventually, just to have something to say. He almost wanted to slap himself for not coming up with anything better.

She smiled at him again and he realized that she was really quite pretty when she smiled. "Don't mention it. My pleasure."

"How'd you know I was here, anyways?" he questioned, feeling better now that the awkwardness had passed.

"Harry," she supplied, easily.

"Ah, fucking Potter..." he muttered to himself. She only smiled wider.

"I'll let you get back to...packing. Thank you, again, Draco. See you around," she said, before making her way to the door.

At first he just watched her slowly retreating back, not understanding what was happening. Why was she leaving now? Had she just come to say goodbye forever? He might've just been imagining the easy likeableness between them.

Whatever it was, he was starved for company.

Perhaps that was what made him act the way he had. Or maybe it was on instinct. Perhaps he had finally reconciled with the fact that he actually _liked _Hermione and didn't want her to walk away anymore. He'd given up on a lot in his life already, had messed up quite a few things. His life was a sham, but at least he knew he'd always have his inner Granger monologue going on.

Whatever the reason, he didn't anticipate his eagerness of going after her. "Hey, Hermione!" he called to her just before she stepped outside his outer office door. She looked back, confusion on her face. "Want to get some dinner sometime?"

Her responding smile was brilliant and he realized that he'd actually _missed _her these past three weeks, especially her smell on his pillows. She nodded in assent and waved before apparating off and leaving him to pack up his office alone with a half smile on his face for the rest of the afternoon.


	20. Come What May

**A/N: SURPRISE! With the whole story having gone missing/deleted issue, I just really want this out of the way instead of posting it next week. I want to put this away for a while and not think about all of the reviews/favourites/alerts I lost (because it's still painful to think about). **

**So no, I don't care that this chapter is not as complete as I'd like it to be, or that I was going to rewrite the last part of the chapter, or the fact that it's unbetaed. SCREW IT ALL! I don't care. **

**So let me know what you thought about it. **

**Chapter Twenty: Come What May**

The first time he saw in an out of work/non-case related capacity was ironically at the Ministry. She had been grabbing a very late five o clock lunch and he'd just stopped in for a cup of coffee after a gruelling session with Potter. It had made his day, seeing her there bent over what must have been her last file. These were her last days at the Ministry and the Department heads wanted to squeeze every last drop of effort out of her.

Or so the rumours went.

He contemplated approaching her. They hadn't talked to each other since she'd come to visit him in his office and he wondered for a second if she'd even want to see him. After all, she hadn't made an effort to seek him out, even though they technically worked in the same building, no matter how large it was. He didn't want to disturb her. She _had _been busy, seemed to be busy at that very moment. But his feet were making the decision for him before his brain could reject the idea.

"Mind if I sit down?" he asked her, a little more on the awkward side than he would have liked. She literally jumped, splattering the coffee that had been in her hand.

It spilled all over herself, the table, the floor, and her files. She looked up at him with a glare in her eyes and a half muttered "_What the fuck!" _already out of her mouth, until she realized who it was. Then the anger visibly melted off her face, easily replaced by embarrassment. Draco loved the way her cheeks coloured at seeing his smirk and raised brow, loved the way she shyly met his gaze.

"Shouldn't creep up on people like that, you know," she said, waving her wand to clean up the mess she had made. "You very nearly gave me a heart attack!" With that exclamation, she sat down. He didn't miss how she gave him a quick once over before gesturing for him to take a seat as well.

He prayed to Merlin he didn't look like utter shit.

"I'm _very _sorry for startling you if that means anything," he said with an amused edge to his tone. He knew she knew that he wasn't really sorry. Even after all they'd gone through, all that they'd grown, he still enjoyed riling her up just as much as she probably enjoyed ticking him off with her know it all attitude.

But she just shrugged and he was almost disappointed with her nonchalance. "No harm done. How've you been...?"

Draco knew the question was a tentative one. She probably knew that they (meaning he, Potter, and the Auror Department) were still busy cleaning up after all the mess Psycho Lovegood had left behind. Draco was still clocking overtime seven days a week – something that had never happened before in his life, at least not after a case had been completed. But, to be fair, the monumental amount of paperwork was just the after effect of any case at the Ministry. It was just tripled in this particular circumstance because... of the special, delicate nature of events

Well, because a lot of fucking shit had gone wrong, that's why.

Besides. Draco had broken several laws, least of which included the Witch who sat across from him, staring at him expectantly. He definitely was not regretting breaking any of them, though.

So what if he had broken protocol by keeping a potential witness in his home and developing a not so professional relationship with the woman? So _what _if he had broken confidentiality and a dozen rules by telling her the details of the investigation and showing her his goddamn Auror file? He didn't regret it. It just meant a whole lot more paperwork to process and Potter's good will to go on.

And _everyone _knew Potter's patience and saviour complex was just endless.

She probably knew of it all though, was probably aware of every single protocol the Ministry had. She was Bookworm Granger after all. But she couldn't have known about the nightmares that were plaguing him, the fact that he couldn't stay asleep longer than a few short measly hours. He didn't think she would be aware of the fact that he would make Scorpius sleep in his own bed at night because he was _afraid _that Lovegood would escape Azkaban to kidnap his son.

She probably had no idea that he couldn't bear to look at himself in the mirror, the fact that he couldn't stay alone with his thoughts anymore. She couldn't know he was still having issues concentrating, that the pain in his body lingered, his muscles and joints ached every time he moved.

She couldn't know that he was permanently _damaged _mentally and probably physically.

She couldn't possibly be aware.

"Draco?" Hermione called to him tentatively, startling him out of his thoughts. "Are you alright?" It was obvious that she was concerned. It was written as plain as day all over her face. She had never been good at masking her emotions. She was a Gryffindor, after all, and they were just too damn feeling for their own goods. Probably too conscious of emotions for _his _own good.

He cleared his throat. "Yes, I've been... busy. Yourself?"

She didn't need to know about his problems, obviously. It was bad enough that he was mentally deranged and was living a life based on lies created by a _psychopath. _He didn't need to broadcast it to the whole fucking world, least of all to the beautiful lion sitting in front of him. He might have _feelings _for the girl, he wouldn't want to scare her away so quickly, would he? Not that she'd want to stay anyway.

She shrugged again, sighing. "Work, home, work," she said with a small smile. "Just finishing up my last obligation and then I'm out of here for good, though. If only it wasn't so bloody thick." He stared down at the file that was spread before her and noticed it was probably as thick as her arm. They were _really _coming down hard on her, then.

"About that..." he began, staring at her contemplatively. She looked up at him and it completely _distracted _the hell out of him. He hadn't realized before that she had gold flecks in those chocolate coloured eyes of hers. And that her hair was wavy, not bushy. Alright, sometimes it would just be a frazzled mess, but that was just because she was frazzled herself. And her small little mouth –

"Yes?" she asked.

She was clearly feeling awkward at his stare and he had to almost shake his head to clear it of its thoughts. This was going to be a bloody hellish experience if he didn't force himself to focus. "Well. Everyone's surprised that you're leaving at such short notice. Especially since you fought tooth and nail to get to where you are now."

Another little shrug. He was going to have to pin her shoulders down if she didn't stop that. It was starting to _distract _him. "Sometimes you just have to do it, yeah." She seemed completely indifferent. It was so unlike the woman he thought he knew, the woman he'd become infatuated with.

"Why, though?" he persisted, if only for the sake of continuing the conversation. "I guess it would make sense if you needed time off or to cut back, but to just quit? It's a little radical."

"I've never exactly been picture perfect, have I?"

He'd have argued the point. She _was _picture perfect, was the essence of perfect. She was warm, gentle, and kind, too smart for her own good, feisty, compassionate... She had all the qualities he'd probably die for and still not be able to attain. And she was pretty, always had been on some level. He recalled how she'd shown up to the Yule Ball with Krum. It was a silly thing to think back on now and he knew he was just thinking that way because he was obviously so enraptured with the woman that sat in front of him. He'd hated her guts back then.

It took him a moment to realize that she was still speaking to him. "...wasn't the best decision for my family. I can't let work dictate how I live my life and define me as something substantially less than I am." He nodded absently. She had a point.

But he wasn't ready to drop it. He didn't want to go home and remember that he was a completely _flawed _individual. It was nice to just sit here and pretend with her for a while. "But after all that hard work..." he prompted.

"Never really cared for it," she said shortly. "I started the job for the money and kept up with it for just that. _Money. _It's wrong and completely unnecessary to base your life on something so..."

"Base?" he filled in. She nodded, sighing again and rubbing the back of her neck to relieve some tension. He literally had to tear his eyes away from the appealing picture just so he wouldn't lose his ability to speak. Or worse, become painfully aroused. "Why not just do a shoddy job on that and get going, then?" he asked, gesturing to the file.

She looked at him as if he were crazy. "I still have professional integrity!" she replied, almost sounding affronted. He tried to cover up his laugh, but really couldn't manage. She narrowed her eyes at him. He could honestly say it was the cutest thing he'd seen all day. "What, Malfoy? What is so goddamned funny?"

He smiled. "If you don't care about the work..." He imitated her little shrug and saw her eyes narrow further at the action.

"I have work ethic!" she exclaimed.

"You mean you're a bookworm." She stared at him open mouthed for a few moments, not quite sure how to respond to his...insult? It made him smirk. He loved throwing her for a loop, it nearly validated his very existence. This was something that was inherent between them, something they couldn't replace. "Come on, Granger, admit it. You're a goody two shoes bookworm," he said, grinning.

"Ferret," she muttered.

Now that threw _him _for a loop. "What did you just call me?"

She looked him straight in the eye and spoke in the most deadpanned voice and expression since Severus Snape himself. "Want to get dinner Friday night, Ferret?"

He could see her lips twitching, just barely holding back laughter that was probably dying to bubble out. He let an evil smile spread over his face, feeling truly genuinely relieved the first time since the whole kidnapper investigation had come to a close. "Sure thing, Bookworm."

He burst out into laughter when she cuffed him over the head with her file.

/

"That's just bloody weird!" Draco exclaimed, looking up at her from his place on the floor.

He had a glass of half empty scotch precariously placed next to his head and a bag of popcorn on his stomach, which he was still munching from, even though the movie was clearly finished. His face glowed from the flickering light of the television, which was now playing the credits, and his head was placed on one of her couch pillows.

"It's a little bit mind boggling, yes," she responded, smiling fondly at him.

"Mind boggling? That was mind fuckery if you ask me!" She had to restrain a giggle at his enthusiasm. He didn't seem to notice, instead turning his eyes back to the screen, half his attention focused on the credits, half on eating popcorn.

He seemed strangely out of place and way too at ease with being in such a... _muggle _context. They had just watched a film together, if anyone could believe it. He hadn't complained at having to do a muggle activity. In fact, he'd seemed to enjoy the hell out of himself, providing commentary every five minutes. She'd counted.

If it had been any other human being, she would have been thoroughly annoyed. She probably would have left, if she thought about it. But he was... well, he was _endearing, _there was no other way to describe it. He was genuinely interested and actually had something to say about it. It made her quite happy.

She had gone on the date with him that Friday after they'd met in the Ministry cafeteria. Only, it hadn't exactly been a date. She and Hugo had gone over to the Manor for dinner. The children had gone off to play with Scorpius' many toys, leaving Hermione and Minny the house elf watch Draco make a disaster in the kitchen as he attempted to prepare a meal. It had been cute, but quite a failure, causing Minny to throw a fit, Draco to blush, and Hermione to laugh joyously.

Needless to say, they had had to go and grab something from Diagon Alley.

But it had been fantastic. She had seen him every day since that night in some capacity. They had dinner, lunch, breakfast – anything as long as it was something. The hours he was away from her, he sent owls and she was more than happy to send owls back.

It was almost as if he didn't have a wife!

But that was a topic that she wasn't willing to broach. It wasn't like they were doing anything wrong. It was just food, activities, and a few friendly owls. Their children were always present, so it wasn't like she was doing anything wrong like starting an affair. It was like she was spending time with Harry – just a close, intimate friend. That is, if she wanted to jump and do sinful things to close intimate friends.

The end credits rolled to a finish and Draco stared confusedly up at her again. "That's it?" he asked.

She had to laugh. "Sorry. I probably should have told you it had ended when the credits started rolling."

He looked at her and back to the telly, which had turned itself back to the title menu of the DVD she had popped in. "So... it's over, then?" he asked for confirmation. He had such an adorable disappointed look on his face that all she could do was smile and nod. "What the fuck? How am I supposed to know what happens, then?"

Hermione shrugged. "Use your imagination?" she suggested. He began to suck the salt from the popcorn off his fingers and she realized shewas using _her_ imagination, imagining what that mouth was able to do to her. It was sinful, delightful, the best thing she'd ever thought of in all her years as an underachieving genius, but it was grossly inappropriate. She immediately jumped up and started cleaning up the mess they'd made throughout the night.

She walked towards the kitchen without another word, carrying an armful of dirty dishes the boys had left downstairs before falling asleep in Hugo's room. Once she'd deposited the dishes into the sink and waved her wand for them to clean themselves, she gripped the counter and shut her eyes tightly. It was all starting to be a little bit too much. She didn't really _want _to feel the way she felt, but...

God, why did all the good men have to be married? It wasn't even as if she was his _girlfriend, _she was his fucking pureblooded wife! And a rude, snarky, bitchy devil woman at that.

"Something wrong?"

Hermione nearly jumped. Draco had come in with the rest of the dishes and the unfinished bag of popcorn, to find her standing there like an idiot with her eyes clenched shut, gripping the counter. It was alright though. It wasn't as if he hadn't found her in embarrassing situations before, she reasoned. She let out a breath.

"Nope. All super," she responded, putting on a fake smile.

It was obvious that he saw right through it though, because he raised his eyebrow. It was his trademark expression, they both knew. The face that said: _Really? You're seriously going to pull that shit with me? _Yes, she seriously was going to pull this shit with him. How was she supposed to tell him that she wanted to jump his bones and would too, if he wasn't married?

Right. Might as well just stab herself now before _that _ever came out of her mouth.

Instead, she took the remaining dishes and put them in the sink to be cleaned. When that appeared to be unsatisfying, she began to empty the dish rack of dried dishes. But that too wasn't enough, so she began to clean up the kitchen counters, all as he watched, silently with his hands crossed over his chest. She didn't know what he was waiting for, so she went into the living room to begin cleaning there.

She had been so focused on cleaning that she didn't even notice he had followed until she sat down on the couch. She found him staring at her from the doorway with a small smile on his face. "What?" she questioned, wondering if she had something on her face. Or worse, looked like a troll.

"You're amusing, really," he said, coming to sit next to her. "And you can't hide things at _all, _Gryffindor." She glared at him, but it did nothing as usual. He only smiled and brushed her hair off of her neck. The action sent small shivers down her spine. He either didn't notice or didn't comment purposefully, either was fine with her.

"What makes you think I'm hiding something?" she questioned in what she thought was a relatively even voice. At least, even with the way her heart was pounding in her chest or the fact that her hands were shaking.

"_Something _must be wrong because I've been around you long enough to know that _this," _he pressed his hand down on her nervously jittering leg to make it stop moving, "is not normal." He stared at her pointedly as if expecting her to give him some kind of explanation.

Well, what the fuck was she supposed to say? "Nope, nothing wrong." There was no way she was ever going to admit to him the thoughts that were running inside her mind. She had that school rivalry ingrained in her blood now, in her very motions. She wasn't going to be the one to give in.

But things really couldn't go on the way they were going without _something _exploding.

"Well, I know you're not normally this warm either," he said, pressing his cool hand to her neck. She wanted to shy away, just so she wouldn't bloody jump him, but his hand was pressed firmly against her and she knew he was trying to make a point. "And your heart shouldn't be beating this fast, should it?"

All she could do was shrug at this point. She'd dreamed for a long time (well, not that long, she assumed) for his hands on her. She just hadn't imagined that it would be in such circumstances, with him trying to outsmart her. Well, goddamn it, it wasn't going to happen! She was going to stay strong until the day he got down on his knees and confessed his everlasting love for her.

Judging by the fact that he was a Malfoy, and Malfoys sure as hell did not do such things, she was going to be a Widow forever. Which was good, that was exactly what she was going for. Lonely, old, and dry.

"Am I making you uncomfortable?" he muttered right next to her ear. She stubbornly shook her head. "No? You're turning a bit red, sweetheart."

His comment only made her blush all the harder and made her just a little more ticked off. Why wasn't he trying harder to stop whatever it was between them? In fact, what the hell was he doing here at all? He had a wife and a marriage to go save – maybe send Astoria to a personality building class or something. What the fuck did she care, so long as she didn't have to be subjected to this anymore?

So, she sighed, shoved his hands off her and began to get up.

"Hey, hey, no!" he said, pulling her back down with his arms around her. "I'm sorry, really."

"No you're not," she angrily muttered.

He snickered. "No, you're right. I'm not." She made to stand up again but he laughingly held her tighter. "Alright, Hermione. You win, I'm so very sorry."

"Oh, that just makes my bloody night, thanks!" she grumbled sarcastically, which just made him laugh all the harder. "Come on, quit it. I've got to get to bed, I'm _tired _and that goddamn file needs working on in the morning." In reality, she just needed some air to get the smell of him out of her nostrils and the feel of him pressed against her off her skin. Perhaps a shower would do the trick...

But he didn't let go. Instead, he purposefully laid her in his arms. "You could nap right here like this. I wouldn't mind," he said with a big smile. She narrowed her eyes at him, which only made his grin widen. It was truly, disgustingly gorgeous. If he wasn't so pretty, she'd knock his teeth out. Perhaps he ought to consider it anyways. "I'm _sorry, _Granger, please? No physical violence."

But by that time, she was already ignoring him, instead relaxing into his firm body. He felt divine against her and she had no doubt that she could fall asleep right here like this, completely addicted to the feeling. She knew from experience that the body under the clothes he was wearing was absolutely gorgeous, and now that her son was safely asleep in his bed surrounded by exactly 148 wards, she could properly appreciate Draco's mouth watering physique.

When his hands made their way to her face, neck, and hair, stroking as they saw fit, she nearly melted into oblivion. This was something she could get used to for the rest of her life. It was absolute comfort. On some level, she was surprised he was even capable of such sweetness, but then she knew that there were a lot of things about him that she didn't know of as a child.

When his lips pressed against hers, she knew that this was something that she'd never forget for the rest of her life. If only _this _had been her first kiss... it was heaven. His lips were soft, yet firm, insistent but not enough to be demanding. It was so sweet that she wanted to cry, almost. She'd waited for this for ages, wanted it since that brief moment in his kitchen those long days ago.

It was heaven, it was absolute paradise. When his tongue gained entry into her mouth, she almost moaned but was too breathless to do so. His hands in her hair, his tongue softly stroking hers, his body pressed against her just as she'd imagined... She could die happy really. This was all she'd ever need, she could _live _off it!

It wasn't until he softly groaned, just a small sound in the back of his throat, that she realized what she was doing. Then, her eyes snapped open and she had to wrench herself out of his embrace. She fell to the floor, her hand pressed to her lips, staring at him in absolute shock.

_What had they done?_

It took him a moment to gather himself, his hands still outstretched in the air, as if trying to figure out why she wasn't there. When he realized she was on the floor, nearly clutching herself in panic, his eyes widened. It seemed _he _was in shock as well, as he didn't say a word, just stared at her with that indescribable expression on his face.

Until she noticed that faint little expression of hurt before it was gone as quickly as it had appeared. But she knew she hadn't imagined it. It was as real as it got.

And then it appeared as if he snapped out of it. "I'm _sorry," _he nearly gasped. "Um... I don't really know why I did that, to be honest. You were just there and I guess..." He was on his feet before she knew what was happening. It seemed he was debating whether to help her up or just make a run for it.

"Draco," she called to him cautiously.

He cringed at her use of his name, clearly not taking rejection well. If she knew him like she did, he was going to bolt and never speak to her again. The man had a lot of pride and once an idea wormed its way into his head, he _never _let it go. Sometimes it was a good thing, but other times like now, it was horrific. He took a few steps towards her, bent down and lifted her to her feet in one fell swoop. It was startling.

Before she knew it, he was already in the hallway, fastening his cloak and quickly muttering his excuses and goodbyes. She literally had to run and throw herself in front of the door before he could reach for the doorknob.

"What the hell, Granger?" he asked, refusing to meet her eyes. So it was going to be like that, was it? _Granger? _Seriously?

"You're _not _leaving here like this!" she exclaimed, barely reminding herself to keep it down in case the boys woke up upstairs. "You can't just..."

"Can't just _what?" _he growled, making his way to the kitchen. She had a feeling he was going to escape through the back garden door, but when she burst into the kitchen, he was just pouring himself another glass of the muggle scotch she had bought him to substitute for firewhisky.

He stared at her, waiting for an answer but she just stared at him open mouthed for a minute, trying to gather her words. He raised a brow at her, questioningly. "You _kissed _me," she blurted out, unthinkingly.

"That I did," he responded bluntly. His expression was deadpan.

"You...have a wife..." she managed to mutter.

That gave him pause. He just stood there, staring at her with a strange expression on his face. He opened his mouth a few times as if to say something to her, but nothing seemed appropriate enough to console her wide eyed awkward expression. When he took a step toward her, as if on instinct, she pressed her back against the wall. There was nowhere to escape to. How had she found herself against a wall, anyhow? If only she could melt into a puddle of her own nerves.

"Is that what you're worried about? My _marriage?" _he asked. She nodded and he laughed a very strange and completely forced laugh. "You mean to tell me... let me get this perfectly straight, you're worried about me cheating on my wife? My psycho bitch wife? _Seriously?_"

She nodded hesitantly, checking his expression for confirmation. What the hell was she supposed to say? Was that not a valid concern, really? Was he so nonchalant about cheating on his wife? She didn't know how purebloods went about their marriages, but she sure as hell wasn't the kind of girl who went around sleeping with married men, even if they were dashingly handsome, interesting, and gorgeous...

He cleared his throat and she was forced to stare back at him. It was increasingly difficult to meet his scorching gaze. Moments passed and they stood there in silence. His expression was heavy, as if he held the weight of the world on his shoulders and was trying to tell her just that. As if he wanted to tell her everything with just that stare but she couldn't understand because she wasn't on the same page.

"What do you want me to say?" she finally snapped. There really wasn't anything _to _say. It made her angry. They were in an impossible situation, it was all dead set with no way around it.

Yes, she liked him, but she wasn't about to compromise her morals to get just a small part of him. She wasn't going to sink down to that level – desperate, clingy, silly, disgusting... There was no fucking way she was going to be the "other woman", no way in hell! She wanted to scream but held herself together anyway by taking a deep breath.

"I would _like _for it not to put a damper on our relationship -"

Well, screw being calm. "What kind of woman do you think I am, Malfoy? I'm not some cheap slag who sleeps around with other women's husbands!" she seethed, finally losing her cool and glaring at him. He stared back at her wide eyed. "I like you, but I'm not willing to... to be some kind of mistress!"

That made him chuckle, the bloody bastard. "Hermione, I'm not suggesting-"

"Not suggesting what?" she interrupted. "Even if you're willing to not have whatever this be out in the open for god knows who to see, I'm not going to waltz around shagging you while everyone knows! I've a reputation! I have _morals!" _

"Hermione-"

"No! Absolutely not! I refuse to even have this conversation." She wanted to cry when he shook his head sadly, staring at her imploringly. "I think you should leave, Draco," she said slowly, resting her back limply against the wall.

"Hermione, please just-"

"No, this is already hard, you don't have to make it harder than it has to be, alright?" This time tears did start to prick at her eyes. Fate just didn't ever want things to go her way ever, did it? She just hoped she wouldn't have to cry in front of him again. She'd done enough of that to last a lifetime and more! "Please, just leave-"

He was against her in a matter of seconds, taking her breath away. He held her face between his hands, cutting off any potential protests she might have had. "I've filed for a divorce, Granger," he muttered with his lips against her forehead. "We've been legally separated since you brought Scorpius home."

He chuckled quietly at her shocked expression. She must have looked like an absolute _idiot _standing there pressed between a wall and his warm body, not responding as he placed soft kisses all over her face and neck. "Why didn't you _tell _me, you big prick?"

He laughed his full bellied laugh, then, but she was still in a fluster of emotions to properly enjoy it. Instead, she cuffed him over the head, which only made him laugh all the harder.

"I wanted to wait until the divorce was finalized and surprise you," he said with a smile. "Ruined the surprise though, just couldn't help myself to your pretty lips, I suppose." She cuffed him over the head again and he laughed harder, whilst picking her up and placing her on the kitchen counter. "You're awfully violent tonight, my little Gryffindor."

"I guess I can't help myself around you, I suppose. I don't feel the need to hit anyone else, after all," she snickered, exaggeratedly flipping her hair over her shoulder. "But seriously, divorce?" she asked, staring at him in concern. "Isn't that really...frowned upon in your circles?"

"What, you'd rather be my mistress behind closed doors?" he asked with a smirk. "Because that's definitely approved of, darling."

She would have smacked him again if she hadn't noted the disgusted undertone to his otherwise playful comment. Instead, she stroked his hair and he seemed to relax like he had all the other times before, completely unaware that he was even doing so. "Aren't you the least bit concerned?"

He hummed deep in his throat, resting his head against her shoulder. They hadn't done _this _many intimate acts in such a short time period before. It set her heart aflutter, made her throat all choked up with emotion. Her hands were probably shaking, but she _wanted _this, wanted this to last so bad that she could cry. She continued stroking his hair as he leaned his body against her. The action felt familiar, somehow.

"Should I be concerned? I've you, I've Scorpius," he responded quietly, "And if all else fails, Potter will still give me employment should I need it."

She laughed. "You don't need employment, you're filthy rich!" But instead of laughing along with her, he just pulled her closer to the edge of the countertop so he could hug her more comfortably. His grasp on her felt desperate, needy, things he was probably not willing to voice to her. Draco had withdrawn into himself in that moment for reasons she could not fathom. This wasn't completely uncommon. Ever since he had taken Xenophillus Lovegood into Azkaban, he just hadn't been right. "Is something wrong?" she asked.

"I'm tired," he muttered quietly into her shoulder. In that moment, Draco Malfoy was once again that lost, vulnerable, confused being that needed someone to hold him together. She didn't know what had caused the shift in him at that moment, but she knew that she would do anything to care of the man before her.

"Let's go to sleep, then," she offered. She hadn't expected him to accept the offer, let alone pick her up and carry her up the stairs to her bed. "That was quick," she commented, but he didn't seem to have heard her. Instead, he just crawled into bed and curled up next to her, nearly clinging.

They lay there silently, his eyes closed as she resumed stroking his hair. She had thought he had fallen asleep against her and was thrilled to have such an experience again. The last time he'd slept against her had been on his deathbed.

She jumped a little when he spoke softly against her neck. "So you'll have me, then?" he muttered. His eyes remained closed but the worry of rejection was apparent on his face, so clear by the way his brow was creased. She couldn't help but smile and smooth out the worry lines.

"Of course, Draco," she responded. "Unless you think I let just anyone into my bed." He chuckled a little morosely at that. She felt brave enough to bend down and press her lips to his cheek. He was asleep against her within moments.

This was all bloody surreal. If anyone had told her Draco Malfoy would be asleep in her bed – asleep, fully clothed and nothing else – she would've laughed and wished it were true. In the space of a night, they'd progressed from careful friends to an all out touching, bed sharing... whatever it was they were now. Was she his girlfriend now all of a sudden? Were they going to do... boyfriend/girlfriend type things now?

She didn't know if she could handle that kind of relationship just like that. They'd barely gotten into the friend phase, let alone... well, whatever came next. She could barely be affectionate with him unless he was going through one of his broken moments. How was she going to handle that kind of intimacy when he was his normal, lucid self? Worry flew through her.

But then, Draco pulled her closer to him in his sleep and she realized that whatever would come would come. She would adjust so long as it was with him.

/

There were candles everywhere. The room was dimly lit, thrown into shadows. Her table was properly set since the first time she had bought the house. There was an actual table cloth, place settings, fine china, and silver! It had never looked cleaner. In fact, she had never liked her house this much before.

She felt a little foolish, standing there by herself, all dressed up. Draco and the boys had quarantined the bottom floor of her humble abode for the better part of the day. She hadn't even been allowed through the front door without being blindfolded! Hugo had then made her dress in her finest, put up her hair, and actually apply makeup. She hadn't wanted to, but had obliged because it had seemed to please him at the time.

Now she was second guessing herself. She had deduced that Draco wanted to throw her a romantic dinner, but what the hell was all this secrecy for? She was just about to walk out back towards the kitchen where Hugo had run off to after leaving her there by herself, when Draco walked in through the door. He was dressed even more elegantly than usual and she couldn't deny how handsome he looked. He smiled brightly at her and kissed her lightly on the cheek.

"You look lovely," he commented, pulling out her seat at the table. "Please, sit."

She obliged, albeit a little reluctantly. "What exactly is going on?" Before he could answer, the door before her opened once more and in walked little Scorpius and Hugo, smartly dressed in tuxedos. It was unexpected and the most adorable thing she'd ever seen. "Oh my god! Come here, sweetheart, let me see you properly!"

Hugo furiously shook his head and Hermione had to frown. But before she could question it, or even open her mouth, Scorpius stepped forward. "Champagne?" he asked in his already cultured drawl. It reminded her of an expensive restaurant she'd dined at after the war with Ron. They'd been able to afford things like that back then, of course. The only difference was their server hadn't been eight years old. She immediately decided that she liked this better.

It was only then that Hermione realized that Scorpius was holding a silver platter with a very expensive bottle of champagne that had clearly not come from her kitchen. Draco gestured for Scorpius to pour, which he did with a grin before backing away with a half bow.

When Scorpius nudged Hugo in the ribs, he stepped forward with a basket of what appeared to be fine rosemary bread. Hermione had to smile at the careful way he placed the bread precisely the same distance each way between their plates, as if he'd practised it several times before. Then he straightened up, one hand before him with a white napkin over his arm.

"Tonight, we will be serving Cream of Broccoli soup, Salmon fillet with a side of potatoes, vegetables, and salad, and for dessert we will be serving chocolate pie." He paused, as if recollecting himself. "If you need anything, anything at all, just ring this bell right here. Have a nice evening!" He removed a silver bell from inside one of his coat pockets and placed it on the table. Finally smiling because he'd remembered everything, he skipped out of the room with Scorpius in tow.

She stared at the still swinging door through which her most adorable son had just gone through and couldn't help the goofy smile that spread on her face. Her head snapped towards Draco when his hand grasped hers over the table cloth.

"Happy Birthday," he said, his voice deep and his smile soft.

"That's not until...?" Her voice trailed off as his thumb began to rub circles into her wrist.

"Next week, I know." He raised her arm to place a gentle kiss on her wrist. "I wanted to have something special tonight in case you wanted to do something with your friends on your birthday." She could see how his eyes darkened on that note, how he resented not having her full attention. It made her a little solemn, but happy that he wanted it in the first place.

She realized his lips were still caressing her wrist. This was possible the second most intimate thing they'd done, beyond...snogging in bed. Draco had realized she needed to move slowly, needed the confirmation of the divorce papers before anything else. She was grateful for it, really.

"I think I might just love you, Mr. Malfoy," she muttered.

He raised his head and winked at her with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Everything was going quite well for Hermione Granger. She had the perfect man in her life, she had left her dreadful job and was on the search for a more preferably one, and her son had been safely restored to her. So what if she had to go on a job search? She had enough saved for them to last a while. She would manage somehow. The smile on Draco's face told her she'd be alright. And for the first time in five years, Hermione felt quite comfortable with herself.

But she wasn't aware of her beautiful son coughing up a storm in the kitchen, little droplets of blood marring the napkin that had earlier been resting on his arm. Hugo hadn't thought twice about it and Hermione was none the wiser. Instead, she continued to have a lovely meal with her new boyfriend and tried not to think about what her future might bring.

In fact, there were many things occurring at that moment that Hermione and Draco could clearly not anticipate. Angry reporters plotting, Skeeters scheming, lunatics smiling because they knew something everyone else didn't. If only they knew, perhaps it could have ended pleasantly for them. If only...

But how were they to know it wasn't going to be a pleasant picture?

_**The End**_

_**...**_

_**For now**_

**A/N: Make sure you review, please! And then read the Author's note that's been posted as another chapter before you go all batshit crazy shouting: THAT'S IT?**


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